


Little Prince

by JamesJohnEye



Series: Founding Fathers [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Past Child Abuse, Young Daryl Dixon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-04 00:33:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 51
Words: 284,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13352748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamesJohnEye/pseuds/JamesJohnEye
Summary: They called it the Final Battle, but the war has just started.





	1. The War is Over

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Dare I say I miss him? I do. I miss him. I still see him in my dreams. They are nightmares mostly, but nightmares tinged with love. Such is the strangeness of the human heart.”

― Yann Martel, Life of Pi

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Later, people will call it the final battle. They will tell stories about the forces of Alexandria, Hilltop Colony and The Kingdom banning together, swarming over a hill to storm a factory. Led by Maggie Rhee, King Ezekiel and Rick Grimes, the names whispered around campfires and in bedrooms to soothe children after nightmares. The leaders of the new free world, faces riddled with scars, and battle-hardened, but still here. Still fighting to keep them safe.

Stories about roaring tigers, the whisper of a knife in the dark, billowing clouds of black smoke when the surprise attack on convoys and outposts was launched. The shattering of glass, breaking of locks and people staggering out of cells to become free men once more. How a shadow had passed over the country, smelling of smoke and death and ashes, but how it had passed, in the end.

People who hadn’t been there will tell tales about that final chase. Of a hunter in the night, a shot lined up so perfectly that it brought the monster to its knees. Of a brother who’d pleaded for his own to stay true to who they had been, all those years before, and who they were trying to be despite their circumstances. A mother’s dying words spilling from her son’s lips.

They would tell their children and friends about how the boy had lowered his weapon as an act of mercy and how his brother had smiled at him with pride. That there had been a man in that clearing, named after the lord and savior of mankind, who’d cuffed the monster and dragged him away. To keep them all safe, but the monster, too.

But those people hadn’t been there.

That’s not how it ended.

There had been a hunter with a perfect shot, and a monster on his knees. The mother’s dying words, passed from brother to brother. It hadn’t been enough. The bow had been raised, a finger on the trigger, and it was only Paul darting forward and batting the weapon up that made the bolt go wide. A scuffle between the boy and the man, the teenager screaming in anger and blinded by rage.

Rick had been there, panting from running after his sons, grabbing the youngest around the waist and throwing him back towards the factory, trying to get him away from Negan who was laughing on the ground. The cop catching a fist with his jaw before growling with anger himself, forcing the teenager up against a tree, squeezing his cheeks with one hand, feeling the tears under his fingertips and forcing the youngest Dixon to finally meet his eye.

Nobody tells stories about how Daryl had begged for another shot. How he’d pawed at Rick’s chest, trying to push himself away from the tree and see Negan over the man’s shoulder while promising to not try anything as he tried to pull his knife at the same time. Desperate pleads about how he’d done it before and please, he could use the red-handle machete again, this was the same thing, Rick didn’t have to do it, he could do, it was fine, everything would be okay if he could just get to-

But Rick had hugged him tightly. Strong arms had pinned the boy in place while the cop waited out the storm. In the end, Daryl just leaned against him. Forehead against his collarbone. Whispered pleads about wanting to kill him dying between them.

Rick had cupped his cheek again, gently this time. Those blue eyes catching blue eyes. ‘You okay?’ he’d asked.

And Daryl had leaned back against the tree with a nod. ‘Yeah, go.’

Rick had left.

There hadn’t been a gunshot. Daryl had laughed, looking up at the night sky and imagining how the machete had cut right through Negan’s skull. How it had buried itself in that messed up brain, how blood had gushed down that pale face to ruin that leather jacket.

After a couple of minutes, he’d pushed himself away from the tree to walk back to the clearing. Just in time to see how Rick helped Negan back to his feet, hands bound behind his back, and walked him towards the factory.

Daryl had watched, frozen on the spot, and had never felt more betrayed.

 

 

People called that night the final battle. It hadn’t been. Years later people will talk about the fireworks that had lit up the sky when the Sanctuary finally fell, about the pyres that were set ablaze and how people had danced around them, songs mixing with the clinking of glasses and cheers echoing through the land when Ezekiel honored the dead with a stirring speech about the new, free world that was waiting for them.

In reality, Ezekiel covered the faces of his fallen soldiers after making sure every single one of them was stabbed in the brain so they could never come back. A hand trailing over their brows and whispered final goodbyes. A king brought to his knees by his losses. He sat with his people until the sun rose and then ordered them to be brought back to the kingdom for a proper burial.

The pyres people speak of as signs of victory and celebration were in fact the graves of the people from Hilltop Colony. They burn their dead.

Daryl sat on the hood of his brother’s truck and watched how bodies were dragged into the flames. The orange light mixing with the light of dawn, Paul hiding his weariness and grief behind his gloved hand until Ezekiel grabbed him by the shoulder, speaking to him in a low voice.

And then came the stirring speech. Not about victory, or a new world, but instead about a fake dawn. About tiredness and loss and sadness and anger, about one final push before they could all rest. It was not yet over.

Most of the Saviors had surrendered once their leader had fallen to his knees, but some remained loyal. Daryl had gotten up, an automatic rifle now slung over his shoulder. It wouldn’t be over until they were all dead, anyway. Boots hitting the dry earth, he joined the soldiers who would hunt them all down.

The morning light would give them the advantage. None of the Saviors had escaped with a vehicle. They were on foot, some were injured and others disoriented by their own panic while fleeing from their home. Daryl had nodded along with Rick while the man talked about how they would be brought to justice. That they would lock them up when they laid down their arms, that they would be escorted back to the Kingdom where there was more room to build a prison.

A quick hug with Merle and Daryl had left to track down one small group. Flanked by soldiers of the Kingdom, Tara, and Rick, he darted between the trees to find their trail. It wasn’t hard even though it took almost an hour. The woods beyond the Sanctuary are massive and they’d swerved to stay closer to the road than both Daryl and Merle had thought they would. It had been a clever move, in hindsight, but in the end it hadn’t mattered much.

They found the group around noon. Five people, four guys and a younger woman. They were resting by a small creek. The woman was sobbing softly, arms curled around her knees and ignoring one of the guys who was trying to comfort her. A strong arm around her shoulders and whispered words about how she needed to drink something before they continued on.

Rick whistled, made the gesture that made the soldiers go into a wide circle before closing in on the little group. There were weapons by their sides. Automatic rifles and handguns. Once everyone was in position, Rick had shouted out the warning that the group was surrounded. That they should leave their weapons and raise their hands above their heads. That there was nowhere to run.

Three of the men had jumped up, grabbing their weapons. One did try to run, shooting his gun at the vague direction of Rick’s voice but running straight into Tara’s line of fire. A bullet hit him in the neck, causing him to fall to the ground immediately but die a slower, gurgling death while he clawed at his wound, fighting to draw breath.

The two others just emptied their clip in Rick’s direction while screaming. Going out in a blaze of glory. Daryl had followed Tara to the side of the circle. He watched how Rick hunkered down, knelt behind a thick tree and lowered his head as he waited out the assault.

Waited for them to make their move.

He did. Flicking off the safety of his weapon, stepping out from behind his own tree, he’d ended it right there and then. Measured steps over the unsteady forest floor, the heavy weapon raised easily and the two men died before they even realized that Rick hadn’t been lying about them being surrounded.

The woman had been screaming. Curled up into a ball on the ground, hands covering her ears instead of going for the gun that was next to her.

The man beside her, the one who’d tried to get her to drink something, had thrown the water bottle aside to grab his weapon. Upon seeing that they’re surrounded, he started to lower it slowly.

Daryl aimed and took the shot.

The woman screamed.

Daryl walked over and kicked the gun out of the dead man’s hands, glancing at the woman before slinging his rifle over his shoulder. ‘Clear.’

The look on Rick’s face will haunt him forever. Eyes wide and hand shaking as he reached up to drag it over his weathered face, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to breathe easy. Others swarmed in to get the guns. Most couldn’t stomach the sight of the woman slumping over the last man’s body, sobbing and digging her fingers into the shirt as if she was trying to keep him close.

Tara set her jaw while Daryl rummaged around in his pockets for a cigarette, only coming up with Will’s lighter. With a huff, he started to head back to the Sanctuary where one of the guys would surely give him something to smoke as they waited for Merle’s group to come back.

‘Dare,’ Rick said softly.

 _What have you done?_ Dripping from the very word.

Behind them, the woman looked up at Tara with a tear-streaked face. Telling her that it had been her dad.

‘Would have shot one of us,’ Daryl nodded.

‘He was lowering his gun.’

‘Didn’t see that,’ Daryl lied.

Rick looked at him.

‘It’s us or them,’ the Dixon snapped. ‘And it’s always gonna be _us_.’

‘That was somebodies father.’

Daryl had smirked before pushing past the cop, making sure their shoulders collided painfully. ‘So was Glenn.’

 

 

The meeting is held at the Sanctuary just when the sun starts to set. There’s a large table which hosts the community leaders. Of course there’s Rick Grimes, shirt patchy from sweating under the southern sun and bloodstains on his hands. Michonne sits next to him, back straight and dark eyes keen. There’s a wound on her arm, wrapped up by one of the Kingdom’s doctors, but it’s no reason for concern. Behind them, Carl lurks in the shadows, pacing up and down with his scarred face hidden by his father’s hat.

There’s Maggie whose eyes are cold except for when she looks at her family members slowly trickling into the room. Jesus sits next to her with his hair now tied up and his long coat hanging from the back of the chair. He looks over his shoulder at Merle, who just lifts an eyebrow in return.

There’s Ezekiel with Jerry. Both men quiet from their losses. The battle axe is resting against the wall behind them, so heavy that only Jerry would be able to lift it up quickly enough to be effective. Morgan leans against the wall next to it but doesn’t speak. He’s looking at his Bo. The tip is tainted red.

Two women from Oceanside have stepped forward to represent the community. Only twenty of them had come to Alexandria’s aide, but it’s enough to consider them friends. Daryl doesn’t know their names.

And then there’s Dwight. Pale and with shaking hands, eyes that won’t stop darting around the room, looking for a threat and wincing at every noise in fear of it being the tape that restarts. Daryl knows the feeling, but can’t feel sorry for the man.

Maggie starts the negotiations because Rick looks at her expectantly.

Daryl sits on a cabinet, arms wrapped around his brother and his chin resting on that broad shoulder. They’re both watching the negotiations though they don’t speak up. They don’t have to, because Maggie is both fair and representing their community, so Daryl relaxes against his big brother and tries to ignore how badly his head hurts. It’s been two days since he’s slept.

The conversation flows past him. Land. Borders. Trade-routes. Property. Resources. Skills. Knowledge. Doctors, medicine, building materials. Livestock and seeds and harvests.

Jesus and Maggie talk the most. Daryl closes his eyes and listens to them. Just the knowledge that they’re both there and that Merle is holding him up, is almost enough to help him finally get some sleep. It’s not until Dwight finally speaks that his eyes snap open again.

‘What about my people?’ the man asks in a hoarse voice. ‘They surrendered.’

‘That doesn’t make them innocent,’ Rick snaps back.

Michonne places a calming hand on his forearm.

The cop closes his eyes for a second, breathing in through his nose. ‘The workers will be set free. They can join any community they want to, or stay here. But the ones who fought us? The ones who were Negan?’ He looks at Maggie. ‘There has to be a consequence.’

‘There will be,’ she assures him. ‘We’ll keep them in separate buildings and they’ll help to rebuild Alexandria.’

‘Labor camps?’ Paul asks with a frown.

‘Might as well make themselves fucking useful,’ Merle grunts. ‘Don’t have to be us, breakin’ our goddamn backs out there.’

‘The Sanctuary will need help to start cultivating the land,’ Maggie says. ‘They’ll need a whole new system to get by. It won’t be easy.’

‘We’ll manage,’ Dwight mutters, ‘if you don’t leave us stranded. There are children here. Women. Elderly.’

‘We won’t leave you to your fates,’ the woman assures him.

Daryl grits his teeth but doesn’t speak up. He drags Merle a couple of inches closer, plastering himself to the man’s back. His brother glances at him over his shoulder. There are still blood splatters on his weathered face, bags under his blue eyes. His hand finds Daryl’s left calve. He rubs it comfortingly.

Rick shifts in his chair. Works his jaw, waves with his right hand, fingers twitching. ‘What about Negan?’

‘Same goes for him.’

‘Lock him up?’ Rick asks with a frown, turning to Maggie. ‘The rest of them, yeah – they can come back from that, but he? People like him don’t change. We’ve made that mistake before.’

‘You didn’t kill him last night,’ Paul says. ‘There had to be a reason for that.’

Rick glances at Daryl. He shifts in his seat again, leaning forward. ‘I didn’t want to do it in front of my boys. They’ve seen enough. They’ve _done_ enough. If we want to do this,’ he gestures around the table, ‘if we want to make this new world a reality? Then we have to decide _together_.’

‘And we will,’ Michonne puts a hand over his. ‘You say we’ve made that mistake before, but this is different. It _is_. This is _over_.’

Something cold settles in Daryl’s chest as he watches how Rick intertwines their fingers. How the man leans towards his girlfriend, curling into her warmth and allowing her to run her hand through his curls. The sound of nails scratching over skin and Rick’s shuddering breath fill the room for a moment.

Carl steps forward and folds his arms in front of his chest. ‘We’ll take Negan. Morgan build a cell, we’ll keep him separate from his people. He won’t go outside.’

‘Alexandria has sustained heavy damages,’ Ezekiel says, voice rough. ‘It is not the fortified stronghold it once was. Some would say it’s lost.’

‘They’d be wrong,’ the boy bites back. ‘That’s our home. We will rebuild it.’

The king dips his chin in understanding. ‘So be it.’

‘We’ll need to rig up the wall again, some parts have been damaged,’ Carl glances at Merle, who’d helped before with the rebuilding. The older Dixon nods. ‘And we need to build new watchtowers. Does the Kingdom have any materials?’

‘We do,’ Dwight speaks up. ‘Steel plates, logs, tools. We have those.’

‘You _took_ those,’ Paul mutters as he looks away.

The blond man glances at him and lowers his head after a nod. ‘Yeah.’

‘Thank you,’ Carl cuts in. ‘We’ll need those. The work will begin…’ he hesitates for a second.

Merle sticks up two fingers.

‘Two weeks from now,’ the teenager continues. ‘It’ll give us enough time to prepare and…’ he tucks the sheriff’s hat lower over his eyes and sinks back into the shadows behind his father, ‘mourn our people,’ he mutters.

‘Two weeks from now,’ Rick agrees. He pulls away from Michonne and turns to Ezekiel to arrange for the Kingdom to take most of the prisoners. There’s more room there than at Hilltop and everyone agrees that it would be best to not keep them at the Sanctuary.

Daryl listens to their voices but he can’t quite comprehend what is going on. His ears are ringing. In the end, he just hides his face by leaning heavily on his brother and tucking his face in the crook of his neck and shoulder.

 

 

The hallway is long and dark. The power has gone out in most parts of the Sanctuary, something appears to be wrong with the generators but nobody has been able to figure out what yet. They’ll find the problem in the morning. It doesn’t matter anyway because Daryl knows the lay-out of the factory by heart.

He’s surprised to see Rick and Michonne sitting across from the door he’s supposed to be at. The man’s arm around the woman, her head resting on his shoulder while she cleans her gun methodically. They both look up at the sound of the teenager’s footsteps and appear to be just as surprised to see him.

‘Dare,’ Rick rasps. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I’m going to finish this,’ the boy says as he draws his knife. It had been a gift. Just a month ago, the blade had been shining and new, the hilt light save for the burned markings that bloom into wild flowers. He’d tried to keep it clean. First of his own blood, a promise made without having been asked for it, but other’s too. It’s stained now. He doubts it will ever get truly clean again. Like every single thing in this new world, it’s ruined.

Rick gets to his feet and holds out a hand. ‘Dare. Put the knife away.’

‘No.’

Michonne gets up, too. She takes a couple of slow steps towards the door to block it. The keys jingle on her belt.

‘Get out of my way.’

‘Dare,’ she says softly. ‘No. I know-‘

‘You don’t know shit,’ he bites back, fingers tightening on the blade. ‘We can end this right now.’

‘It’s already over. We’ve _won_ ,’ she urges.

It doesn’t feel like it. Everything inside him still hurts like his organs are made of shattered glass. He doesn’t have the energy to cry anymore but his eyes are raw and red still. There’s no calmness flooding him now, no sense of elation or happiness. This isn’t winning.

He looks at Rick. ‘You promised. Not today, not tomorrow, but you were going to kill him. And now you don’t wanna do it? That’s fine. That’s what happened last time, too. I can do it again.’

The cop winces. ‘Dare – no. It won’t solve anything.’

‘You made a promise. I’ll keep it. It doesn’t have to _solve_ anything. Just step aside, man.’

‘We can’t do that,’ Rick says. ‘I know how you feel – we all feel the same way, but we can’t go down that road again. That’s not who we are. Who _you_ are.’

‘It doesn’t matter who you think I am!’ Daryl snarls. ‘It’s not about me! It’s about him and –‘

‘What we do, it changes us. We didn’t fight this war for _us_ , we fought it for our people, for a better world for Judith and Maggie’s child. We did it for _them_ , but it’s over, Dare.’

‘So he’s just gonna walk, after everything he’s done? He killed Abe. He killed Glenn and Carol! He burned Eric on a goddamn pyre and laughed while he screamed and _you’re gonna let him get away with that_?’

‘Dare, please-‘

‘No, man! You can’t hand me the machete one time, and tell me to fuck off the next. It don’t work like that. You don’t get to choose.’

Rick takes a cautious step towards him. ‘It was wrong to give it to you the first time. I won’t make the same mistake again. Put your knife away.’

‘ _No_.’

‘We’re not moving,’ Rick says as he gestures to Michonne and himself. ‘So you’re going to hurt us to get to him now?’

‘Well-‘ Daryl falters for a moment but then grits his teeth. ‘You’d do the same to me, right? _You can kill one of them right in front of me. Which one. Which one, Rick?_ ’ The Dixon hisses.

Rick looks away for a moment, hurt flickering over his face. ‘I – I can’t even begin to explain how sorry I am for what happened, but this is not the answer,’ he says. ‘We’re going to talk about that, we’re going to talk about all of it, but – just – please, Dare.’

He wouldn’t hurt them.

It scares him a little that Rick doesn’t seem as sure.

He puts the knife away and rolls his shoulders back. ‘There’s gonna be a time when you ain’t here. Not today, not tomorrow, right? But I’m going to kill him.’

Negan’s laughter coming from the cell haunts his retreating footsteps.

 

 

He wakes up screaming.

The sound dies around him as he sits up in his bed, staring at the wall with a heaving chest. The blankets and pillows are soaked with sweat. He pushes his wet hair out of his eyes with a trembling hand.

Moonlight illuminates his bedroom at Hilltop Colony. There’s a cabinet which holds the few items of clothing he has. His crossbow leans against it. One drawer is filled with his spare bolts. Most are fragile, made of wood, but he likes to use them to hunt walkers with. They often break on impact, piercing an eye and brain but snapping in two when he’ll try to wrench it out of the skulls again. He just leaves them now. It doesn’t matter. He has enough.

There’s a desk with a pile of old war plans he sometimes still studies. He tries to find ways he could have saved Carol, how they could have breached the Sanctuary differently, how he should have been faster once they were actually inside. It leaves him frustrated. The night of the final battle is a muddle of blood and death, of him screaming people’s names and then choking on them.

His vest is hanging from the chair. Scrubbed clean, Will’s wings once again as white as snow. The leather jacket under it, transformed due to Enid’s contribution. He’s had to ask someone to sew the sleeve on again a while ago because the thread had started to give but that doesn’t matter. It’s fixed now and still one of his favorites. Dark jeans with tears at the knees. Those boots.

He hasn’t thrown them out yet. He won’t, probably.

They shouldn’t waste things just because they carry bad memories with them.

The black baseball cap hangs on a hook near the door. He never leaves the room without it.

He sits up, legs swinging over the side of his bed so his bare feet touch the floorboards. He feels exposed by just sitting here in his underwear, staring at his bony knees and old wounds on his thighs. The necklace jingles softly when he moves. Two wedding rings and the number twenty-two.

Slowly he reaches up to grasp them.

Light footsteps on the other side of the wall cause his heartrate to spike, his breathing to become irregular for a couple of seconds. There’s sweat still dripping down his temples, pooling in the little dip of his collarbones. His hands curl around the edge of his matrass while he looks up just in time to see the door open.

‘Daryl.’ Paul stops on the threshold. It’s clear that he’s just thrown on some clothes. His signature knives and belts are missing, the laces of his boots undone and his white shirt is hanging open to reveal his toned chest. He looks concerned as he takes a slow step into the room, voice low as he speaks. ‘ _Daryl_?’

 ‘I’m fine,’ the teenager manages to get out, but he sounds breathless and shaken.

‘You were screaming.’

The bony shoulders curl inwards as the boy leans onto a knee with his elbow, running his hand through his wet hair. He’s breathing easier now, but his hands still aren’t steady. ‘I’m fine now,’ he mutters. ‘Nightmare. I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be,’ Paul answers. He takes another step towards him. ‘Please talk to me.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Daryl repeats and his fingernails dig into his skull. He must have woken people up with his screaming. It has happened so many times before that he’s lost count. Nobody mentions it the next day but he’ll know that everyone heard by the too-kind smiles and overly enthusiastic greetings or the sympathetic strokes over his baseball cap the next morning.

Paul kneels down in front of him. He has to duck his head to catch the boy’s eye. ‘Please,’ he whispers, ‘talk to _someone_.’

‘Don’t got nothing to say.’

The man looks crushed as he reaches up, fingers almost touching a clammy cheek.

‘Don’t touch me.’

He drops the hand immediately. ‘Daryl, please.’

The teenager takes a deep breath and shoves himself away from the bed. He stumbles, disorientated, but manages to make it to the desk. ‘I told you,’ he mumbles as he yanks his jeans on, ‘I’m _fine_.’

They’ve had this conversation so many times that, somewhere deep down, Daryl is honestly surprised that Paul still tries. The Lord knows he would have given up a long time ago. He stomps his boots on too, grabs his shirt and makes a move to get his bow.

A hand on his arm stops him. It’s gone before he can lash out, hand instinctively going to the hunting knife that’s always on his belt.

‘You don’t need your bow,’ Paul tells him. ‘It’s dark, and you’re safe within the walls.’

The words almost make him sick. _You’re safe_.

He always feels better with the weapon slung over his shoulder. Just like when they’d arrived at Alexandria, Hilltop’s policy is now that the guns are stored in various rooms around the complex. Those on guard carry rifles and pistols, but the rest had to hand them in. Despite his raging and refusal at first, the rule now also applies to him.

Maggie had argued that it makes the people feel safer. Less on their toes at all times, and Daryl wants to scream at her for it. Wordless sounds of hurt and fear and anger, because every conversation he has tried to have with her over this has ended in her shooting him down. He doesn’t want people to feel safe. They’re not. They’ll never, ever be safe.

The bow, he gets to keep around. She’d acted like it was a fair compromise but it still feels like he’s getting the short end of the stick.

There’s a gun hidden in Merle’s bedside table though, and he knows that Paul tends to his knives every single night, so he wonders who Maggie is trying to fool with the attempts at normalcy.

He doesn’t want to tell Paul that he feels weak without his most prized possession, so he just sets his jaw and finally meets those blue eyes. ’You’re right,’ he lies. ‘Reflex, I guess.’

Paul gives him a doubtful look. ‘Do you want me to wake Maggie up?’

‘What for?’ Daryl asks as he slips past the scout and grabs the baseball cap from the wall. He places it backwards over his damp hair. ‘Done told you twice already; I’m _fine_. I’m going to –‘

‘Please talk to me.’

He stops on the threshold. He looks at his hand on the doorknob, at the shaking fingers. There’s fear inside his veins. It doesn’t matter that he’s at Hilltop and behind the wall. It doesn’t matter that there’s a knife on his hip, or that their most experienced fighter is standing right behind him to back him up. None of that matters. He’s scared. He’s always scared these days. A nervousness has taken over his heart, has shook his foundation. Everything is cracked and broken and crumbling and he’s _so_ scared.

He wants to tell Paul that there’s something wrong with him. That there’s something in his heart, in his brain, that has just gone _wrong_ somewhere along the way. Something died and festered and is now spreading like a plaque inside of him.

The words die on his tongue, however.

_I’m scared, Paul._

_I’m terrified._

It almost makes him laugh. There’s nothing to be scared of, anymore.

The war is over.

‘Thanks for checking on me,’ he says instead. ‘You didn’t have to.’

‘Because you’re fine, right?’ There’s a trace of anger in Paul’s words. A sharp bite to them.

Daryl nods. ‘Sorry for wakin’ ya,’ he mutters before heading out into the dark hallway. His footsteps echo until they get silenced by the carpet. Shadows dance on the walls he passes. Soft candle light flickers from under doors. He catches shards of conversations and pretends not to hear any of it.

The doors are heavy as he pushes them open to reveal the rest of Hilltop Colony. Out in the distance, down the pathway, the wall rises up. Silhouettes patrol the night sky, stark against the silver moon. Easy targets, Daryl thinks immediately. One sniper as good as Sasha and it would be all over.

FEMA trailers are but dark building blocks to his left. They’re standing so close next to each other that one grenade could damage two at the time, if thrown by Merle or Rosita. The fire would catch, grow into an inferno that could take out the entire courtyard. There’s a make-shift barn right in front of him. Hay and animals and wood and – he can feel the blaze already. The heat on his skin, the roar of his world collapsing, the screams of dying pigs that would remind him of the pyres and-

He stumbles away from the front door, to the left. Dizziness forces him to his knees after just a couple of steps. One arm curls around his stomach as he catches himself on the ground with his free hand. He throws up.

After a minute, he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. The sour taste lingers as he gets to his feet again, taking clumsy steps until he gets to where he was heading all along. He falls into the grass and stares up at the night sky.

Orion and the scorpion, high above him.

He closes his eyes because he doesn’t want to see.

Instead, he turns onto his side and curls up. One arm outstretched, fingers digging into the soft earth. He holds on tightly, afraid to let go, afraid to open his eyes, afraid, afraid, _afraid_.

He starts to cry. Broken sobs and hoarse pleads, even though he’s not sure what he’s begging for. For it to stop, to go away and leave him alone, for anything that could make him stop feeling this worthless and useless and _wrong_.

For it to stop.

‘Please,’ he cries, curling up tighter and digging his fingers into the earth. ‘I can’t – I don’t – I’m so _tired_.’

 

 

The next morning, the claw-marks on Glenn’s grave will be the only evidence that the boy was ever there.

 


	2. Barrington

 

* * *

 

 

Dawn spills over Hilltop Colony like a tidal-wave. Starting as just a soft glow on the horizon before bathing the entire settlement in golden light. Some of the guards linger on the East wall to enjoy the sight before quickly moving on. Their silhouettes aren’t as comforting as they once were. The orange glow reminds Daryl of fire. He expects to hear them scream.

He’s seen the dawning of every day since the final battle. Some stunningly beautiful, others dreary and drab due to low hanging clouds. The first couple of nights he’d climbed the stairs to the tower of Barrington House and he’d watched the dawn from up there. Sitting on the railing and just staring out over the fields, fingers going white on the metal for no reason.

Paul had figured that spot out pretty fast though.

The first time the scout had found him up there, there had been painfully tentative jokes that couldn’t make him smile and stretched-out silences that were awkward instead of comforting. It hadn’t been better the second time around. Fearing a third attempt, Daryl had opted to just get to work as soon as nightmares tore him out of his sleep.

Dawn is the signal for the rest of Hilltop Colony to leave their warm beds and get to work as well. Doors open and the guards are relieved from their nightshifts, the smith’s fire is rekindled and farmers grab their buckets to start watering crops. There are cheerful greetings ringing out in the early morning. Raised hands and quick hugs.

It all seems so normal.

Out in the distance, Daryl can even spot Aaron leaving Barrington House with an axe on his shoulder. He’s chatting with several men and women, all heading towards the forest to stock up on firewood. The sight of him going about his business makes Daryl feel stupid for having nightmares at all. There are people who have suffered so much more during the last few days of the war than him.  And Aaron doesn’t wake up the whole colony with his screams and night terrors.

Daryl ducks his head and grabs Khamsin’s lead rope. Merle has built a special pen for her to run around in. It’s not big enough to burn through all her energy, but it’s enough to keep her calm and happy until someone takes her outside of the wall. Every night Daryl sits on his balcony and watches how stall hands run after her with the lead in an attempt to try and bring her in. She rarely lets herself be captured. She hates being cooped up inside the barn.

Watching her jump around, run and kick up dust to frighten the farm hands always makes him smile. He never helps them and silently roots for his horse. The mayhem ends when someone finally caves and goes to get Beth. A stern word and snapping of her fingers, a hidden treat in the palm of her hands and Khamsin trots after her like a loyal dog. Beth will throw a glare over her shoulder at him before locking his devil horse up. She knows he’s watching and just refusing to help but never calls him out on it.

Khamsin is walking around the pen right now. Her coat looks golden in the early morning sunlight, mane dark like his own hair and eyes almost black. The way she moves always captivates him. Swift and agile, stunning as she picks up speed to gallop to the other side of the pen to check where the farmers are going. She neighs softly, feet stomping on the floor to make it clear how annoyed she is at being left behind.

Daryl smiles and climbs up on the wooden fence.

The horse spots him. She neighs and comes over, dust billowing behind her. Hooves scraping over the ground as she comes to a stop a couple of feet away from him. She eyes him for a second and then tries to sneak forward, nipping at his knee.

‘I’m not in the mood, girl,’ Daryl says softly as he holds out his hand to her. ‘I’m tired today. Please don’t make me chase you around.’

She never does, though she always tries to get him to play and run around with her. She pushes her nose against his outstretched hand for a moment before just standing beside him. He strokes her flank. Together they watch how the guards make their way down the ladder and huddle close before heading towards their beds.

‘Ready to head out?’ He shakes the lead rope and she pushes her nose against his belly in agreement. He has to grab hold of her headgear, fingers curling around the cheek piece so he doesn’t tumble off the fence backwards. ‘Stop playin’,’ he murmurs as he hops off on the right side and clips the lead on. ‘C’mon then.’

She follows him into the barn and her stall. He lets her drink something while he brushes her down and throws a blanket over her back. The lack of sleep makes him moody. The saddle feels heavier than normal, causing him to almost not be able to throw it onto her back. She side-steps, clearly annoyed at his uncoordinated movements, her back feet jerking like she thinks about kicking.

‘Sorry. Stop it,’ he strokes her neck. ‘Gotta have some patience with me today, girly. I know. I know. I’ll try to be quick. I know you wanna go out there.’

The girth gives him no trouble, but she always gets stubborn when he tries to bridle her. With a sigh, he wriggles his thumb inside her mouth, touching her tongue like Beth had showed him to get her to open her mouth just enough so he can slide the bit in. Maybe it’s the sleepiness, but he’s too slow with retracting his hand.

She bites down on his finger hard.

‘Auch! Jesus Christ,’ he hisses, cradling his hand before quickly finishing the job.

‘Is she giving you trouble again?’

The voice startles both rider and horse. Khamsin breathes out angrily, stepping in place and pushing against the young man, trying to look at who is leaning against the door of her box. Daryl steps out of the way quickly. He catches her cheek piece and strokes her forehead before glaring at the man who’d spoken up.

‘She ain’t ever givin’ me trouble. ‘s the other way around. Just did something dumb.’

‘That doesn’t sound like you.’

Daryl scoffs. ‘You need something, Calvin, or you just suckin’ up?’

Calvin frowns and folds his arms in front of his chest. ‘No, I was just checking in. You know it’s my job to clean her box, right? You don’t have to beat me to it every single morning.’

Daryl shrugs, ‘I don’t mind doing it. It’s my horse. I can take care of her.’

‘And I appreciate your help,’ Calvin nods, ‘but you’re supposed to take it easy.’

Daryl clacks his tongue and kicks the door of the box open, causing Calvin to need to jump aside in order to not get hit. ‘Come on, girl. We’re getting out of here.’ The horse streaks past him, heading towards the big doors. The teenager grabs his crossbow off the floor and throws it onto his back with a practiced move. At the doors, he grabs Khamsin’s reins to walk her towards the gates. She follows excitedly, trying her very best not to tug on the reins or bump into him to make him speed up.

‘Yo,’ Daryl shouts out before whistling sharply to get the attention of the guards at the gate. ‘Open it up!’

A couple of guards look down and then shrink back, ducking their heads and trying to ignore the teenager. They nudge each other nervously, hissing that the other should go down to talk to him.

‘What’s the damn hold-up? Open the gate!’

Another guard comes over, walking quickly over the balustrade. A dark hood protects him from the early morning chill and he brings one hand up to tug his scarf lower as he walks down the staircase. It’s Kal. A couple of inches taller than the teenager and unafraid of the infamous Dixon glare.

‘Good morning, Daryl,’ the man greets as he jumps down the last couple of steps. ‘We’re not going to open the gates for you just yet. Maggie’s orders.’

‘ _Maggie’s_ orders?’

‘Yeah,’ Kal nods. ‘She’s at the house, if you want to take it up with her.’

‘What I want,’ Daryl snarls as he steps up to the man, ‘is for you to open the goddamn gate, man.’

‘Then you know who to talk to,’ Kal answers coolly. ‘And where to find her. Here,’ he reaches for Khamsin’s reins, ‘I’ll even look after your horse for you in the meantime.’

‘Touch her and lose your fucking fingers.’

They look at each other. It reminds Daryl of the first time they had a stand-off like this. Him outside the gates of the Colony and Kal aiming a spear at Rick. The man hadn’t seemed scared then and he’s not impressed with the posing teenager now. He raises an eyebrow.

‘I’m tellin’ ya,’ Daryl warns through gritted teeth.

‘Go talk to Maggie,’ Kal advises him as he grabs the reins anyway and leads Khamsin to the side so she won’t block the way. ‘You can’t avoid her forever.’

‘Ain’t avoiding her,’ Daryl counters softly but he’s glad that the man can’t hear it. The childishness of the words isn’t lost on him and the fact that it’s a complete lie only makes it worse. After throwing a last glare at the guards on top of the wall and Kal petting Khamsin’s neck, he stalks towards Barrington House.

Of course he knows where Maggie is at this time. The big dining hall of the house is still exactly that; the room where breakfast and dinner are served in. The single wooden table has been replaced by various smaller ones, a mismatched bunch of antiques and cheaper versions runners had found outside of the wall. The sound of voices, laughter and utensils scraping over porcelain plates makes him uneasy. It’s busy despite the fact that the first shift has already left. That just means that most of the nightshift are now having their breakfast before going to bed.

Daryl takes a deep breath before he ducks into the room. It doesn’t fall completely silent but people are watching him from the moment his boots cross the threshold. He tucks his chin in, bee lining for the table Maggie usually sits at.

‘Good morning, Daryl!’

‘Hey there, Daryl.’

‘’s up, Dixon?’

He scowls at his boots and tries to ignore the painfully cheerful greetings. It all reminds him of the prison, way back when. Back then it had felt like some sort of validation that everyone knew who he was, that everyone wanted to greet him and get noticed by him. Now, it just feels wrong. The words sound too fake and he flinches when they register. He wishes he could hide behind Carol’s back again, jump onto that platform and listen to her teasing about how she knew him first and how he should learn to live with the love. But she’s gone now. All of that is gone now.

Maggie is sitting at a table in the middle with Beth, Eduardo, Paul and Meghan. They’re eating breakfast, plates already cleared for the most part except for Eduardo’s, who has just finished his night shift. He’s filling in Maggie and Paul, keeping them updated with everything. He falls silent when he spots Daryl.

‘Why’d you tell ‘em to lock the gates? Kal won’t let me out,’ Daryl says as he leans onto the table with both of his hands, glaring at Maggie.

She takes a sip of her water, unfazed by his appearance. ‘Good morning, Dare. Would you like some breakfast?’

‘No.’

‘When is the last time you ate something?’

‘Had dinner last night.’

Maggie narrows her eyes.

Daryl does, too. ‘What? Ain’t starvin’ myself. Go ask Tess if you don’t fuckin’ believe me.’

Paul shifts in his seat and pushes his long hair behind his ear. ‘Tess wasn’t on the roster yesterday, Daryl,’ he says softly. ‘Mark was.’

‘Why the fuck are you always stickin’ your nose into everything? I’m talkin’ to Maggie, ya stupid prick! Sorry I weren’t paying attention to who the hell gave me the dinner I fucking shot myself, cause that’s what we had yesterday; _my_ game. See?’ he turns back to Maggie. ‘I ate. Tell those fuckers at the gate to open up for me or they’re all getting an arrow in the ass!’

‘Dare.’ Maggie’s voice is stern but not as cold as he’d expected. That doesn’t stop him from flinching, however. ‘Please grab a plate and have breakfast with us.’

‘ _Whatever_.’ He’s actually pretty hungry. He’d watched the sun rise from Glenn’s grave, staring up at the sky that turned lighter with every passing second before getting up to clean out Khamsin’s box. Paul hadn’t been wrong either. He hadn’t known Tess wasn’t on the roster yesterday because he’d never gone in for dinner at all. So he slinks over to the side where there’s a lady waiting for him with a plate, filled with his favorite food. There’s more meat than anyone usually gets. The best pieces of a rabbit, too. Scrambled eggs, and mashed potatoes almost floating in gravy. A couple of small tomatoes to pretend it’s a balanced meal. He accepts the plate with a growling stomach.

‘Thanks.’

‘You’re very welcome, Daryl,’ the woman says with a sad smile. ‘Do you want some milk with that? Or water?’

‘There’s milk left?’ he asks because sometimes they run out for the day. There’s an eagerness in his voice he can’t quite repress.

‘I saved some for you.’ She grabs a glass from under the counter. Her eyes are sunken but kind and warm when she hands it to him. The slight frown on his face makes her sigh softly. ‘My room is next to yours.’

He scowls. ‘Sorry I woke ya then.’

‘You didn’t. I was already awake. You’re not the only one with nightmares, Daryl. You’re not alone in this.’

‘Good lord,’ he glances around nervously, ‘when did grabbin’ breakfast become a goddamn therapy session? Just gimme a fork, lady, and I’ll be out of your hair.’

‘I just wanted you to know that,’ she tells him before passing him the utensil.

‘Gotcha,’ Daryl rolls his eyes as he puts the fork in his mouth and grabs the plate and drink, walking back to Maggie’s table. Meghan has left, which has created a space opposite Maggie, and between Paul and Beth. He falls into the seat. The conversation is still going but he doesn’t join in. He eats quietly, eyes down and shoulders curled inwards.

After a couple of minutes he jabs Paul between his ribs with his elbow to get his attention.

The blue eyes still take his breath away. There’s a little green in them this morning. Maybe it’s just the way the light hits them, or maybe he really does have specs of green in them, Daryl can’t be sure. It doesn’t really matter. He finds them mesmerizing either way. He doubts his stupid crush on the man will ever fade. At least he’s gotten to the point where he can hold a decent conversation with him without stumbling over his words too much.

‘Gave me rabbit,’ he murmurs when Paul quirks an eyebrow. ‘Like, the best pieces. You can have some, if you want.’

It’s an apology for his outburst earlier and everyone at the table knows it.

‘Thank you, Daryl,’ Paul answers as he plucks a small strip off his plate.

He shrugs and ducks his head, drinking his milk. It’s sweetened with honey. He elbows Beth next. ‘Want some of this? ‘s good. The lady kept it for me.’

‘Milk?’ Beth accepts the glass and sniffs it. She quickly takes a big gulp, snorting at Maggie’s confused frown. ‘It’s got honey in it,’ she laughs as she passes the glass back to the youngest Dixon. ‘That’s _so_ good, I haven’t had something sweet in forever!’

Maggie gives her sister a pointed look.

‘What? He offered!

‘You can have the rest,’ Daryl offers, pushing the glass towards Maggie with his fingertips but keeping his eyes down.

‘No, thank you, Dare. It’s for you. Drink up and stop trying to flirt with Paul by giving him your food. You’re skin and bones as is.’

Heat races from his chest to his neck and cheeks. He can feel how he turns red. The tips of his ears burn and he hopes that they’re not sticking out like they usually do between his shaggy hair and the brim of his black baseball cap. He looks up only to give her a nasty glare.

‘A joke, Dare,’ she says gently. ‘Just a joke. I’m running out of ways to try and make you smile.’

‘Maybe you should stop tryin’,’ he mumbles as he hunches over his plate again, shoveling the scrambled eggs into his mouth.

‘Never.’

He glances up.

Maggie looks sad when she looks at him.

He wishes she’d stop.

 

 

It’s been nine days since the final battle.

It’s been two days since Merle left with a small group to meet Rick at Alexandria to assess the damage. He’ll help with coordinating and the actual rebuilding of the place. Most of the materials will come from the Sanctuary and Kingdom, with Hilltop only lending manpower.

Two weeks of mourning seems too long for most. Aaron is already beyond the wall with his group, cutting down trees to gather resources. Someone has replaced the blacksmith. He’s not as skilled but learns fast, working day and night to honor someone he’d cared about. Of course there are some who hide away in their homes, in their rooms, in dark corners where no one can see them brush tears away with shaking hands. Others are sitting on the steps with empty eyes, lost in thought.

Maggie wanted that for him in the beginning. Stripping him of all his chores and jobs, claiming they had enough food and no messages needed to be send for everything had been arranged at the meeting after the final battle. That almost drove him mad. Just sitting around and thinking about everything he’d done wrong. All the people he’d gotten killed over the years. The thoughts always started with Carol, who’d been so dear to him, then Abe and Glenn, of course. But they’d spiral out of control, too. To Tyreese and Sasha, to Denise and Sherry. Back to Lori even and Shane. Will.

Those hadn’t been his fault. He knows that. He _knows_ that. But the more he thinks about it, the more it starts to feel like it was him, all along. That there’s something oozing out of his very pores that causes all his family and friends to die.

He knows he should consider them blessed. So many have survived, after all. Because Maggie is still here, and so is Beth. His brother is still alive and found him against all odds. There’s Carl and Judith, Michonne and Rick. Tara, Paul and Rosita. Eugene. Morgan, Ezekiel and Jerry. Enid. Aaron. But the losses are too great to ever be able to think of them as blessed anymore.

His dad is gone. Shane. Glenn. Carol. Sasha and Tyreese. T-dog, Lori. Denise and Eric.

‘Dare!’

He looks up. Maggie is standing on the steps of Barrington House, one hand shielding her eyes from the glaring sun as the other waves him over. Her dark hair frames her face. It’s getting longer, growing faster than Daryl thought it would. Soon, Enid will have to attack it with some scissors again.

With a sigh, he pushes himself to his feet and heads over to her. There’s an unease between them that makes him sick to his stomach. He knows that Rick has told her about the man he’d murdered when the war was already over. He knows from the way she’d looked even sadder when they left, the way her hand shakes when she reaches for him.

He’s not sorry about what he did. He’ll never apologize for it, but he also can’t meet her eye. Too ashamed, too worried that her touch will be cold or that she will finally realize what Lori had known from the very start.

He’s a lost cause.

There’s nothing good in him anymore. Nothing good or kind or sweet. His temper flares erratically these days, his tongue lashing out though he often balls his fists too, just in case. He can’t stop. He’ll snap and snarl at Beth, only stopping when there are tears in her eyes. He’ll try to bait Paul into an argument with harsh words. It never works. He knows exactly what he’s trying to do and refuses to give in, but the shuttered look he sports when he walks away is enough for now.

‘What do you want?’

Maggie doesn’t seem bothered by his hostile tone. ‘I need to go outside of the wall for a bit. Can you come with me?’

He narrows his eyes suspiciously. ‘Where’s Paul?’

‘He’s busy.’

‘Beth?’

Maggie walks down the steps and heads towards the gate. ‘Just come with me, Dare.’

She’s not armed save for the knife on her hip. It scares him enough to get him to move, hurrying after her. Just as the gates start to glide open, he darts into the small shack next to it, grabbing his spare quiver from the wall and running after Maggie again. His wooden bolts are stored there. He prefers to use those on walkers.

He supposes he should be grateful that he can finally go outside of the wall after being blocked this morning. There’s still a sourness in his mouth from having to watch how Kal led Khamsin back into her pen, struggling only a little to keep the fiery horse under control. He’d already gone outside yesterday to hunt and Maggie has apparently reinstated Shane’s old rules. Hunt one day, stay in the next.

It’s not fair. He’s not twelve anymore, but Maggie won’t listen to him.

‘What’re we doing out here anyway?’ Daryl mutters. He glances over his shoulder and grabs his bow to have it at the ready. ‘I don’t have a gun on me.’

‘Your bow will be enough. We’re not going far.’

‘Why aren’t you armed?’

‘Because I trust you.’

‘Stop sayin’ shit like that.’

She stops walking and looks at him. ‘No, I won’t, because I mean it. I _love_ you. I _trust_ you. Whatever you have done; I trust you, and I will always love you.’

‘I don’t want to hear it!’

‘Because you think you don’t deserve it.’

He takes a step towards her, getting in her face. ‘What I deserve is five seconds of fucking peace and quiet. Ain’t that what you wanted? Why’s everyone crawling up my ass with fuckin’ therapy sessions? Can’t get breakfast without gettin’ a lecture, can’t do my chores without people tellin’ me I should be taking it easy. I can’t even just _be_ for two seconds!’

‘Do you want me to leave you alone?’

‘ _No_! I mean… Fuck yeah.’

Maggie throws him a smirk. ‘That’s what I thought. Come on. We all have jobs to do, making sure I don’t get eaten is yours.’

They walk a slow circle around Hilltop Colony. It eases Daryl’s nerves a little that they’re still within sight of the wall, even though he can’t see the guards from down here. He feels stupid for being nervous, though. There’s not a walker in sight.

‘I think this will be the spot.’

Daryl pushes Maggie’s shoulder lightly. ‘Don’t stand in a clearing like that. Gonna get yourself sniped.’

‘Sniped by who, Dare?’

‘Anyone,’ he mutters while scanning the tree line. ‘People,’ then he glances at the open field just beside the colony. ‘A spot for what?’

‘We’re going to need an expansion. The ground is pretty even here and we can clear the rest of the trees to make it big enough. We could build another house, or maybe a main building for cooking, cleaning, meetings. All that, so we can clear some rooms at Barrington and turn them into places for people to stay.’

Daryl snorts. ‘Who the fuck for? Barrington is big enough. If someone’s cryin’ about not having their own room, I won’t mind going back to Paul’s trailer, or shack up with you.’

Maggie shoots him a look. ‘There’s going to be a lot more people in the future, Dare.’

‘You really think there are still people out there? Nah. Everyone who’s alive found a place to be at. A home. Nobody is surviving out on the road no more.’

Maggie turns to him. ‘There are people still at the Sanctuary who want out of there. The Kingdom has taken a lot of them in, too. They can’t all stay there forever, it’s draining their resources too much. We need to divide them over the communities.’

The ground suddenly feels unsteady. He sways on the spot, ears ringing and bile rising in his throat. ‘ _Saviors_?’

‘Yes.’

‘So – so what?’ he looks around, feeling lost and nauseous. ‘We just – we gonna turn Barrington into a prison? Put bars in front of the windows or something? That’s our home! Why do they get to take that? We can-‘

‘We’re not going to lock them up, Dare,’ Maggie says softly. ‘They’re going to live with us.’

‘ _No_.’

‘They surrendered.’

‘Because we blew up their outposts and shoved an AK47 in their faces!’

The woman sighs and runs a hand through her dark hair. ‘There were workers there, people who were _forced_ to live under Negan. You know that. Prisoners, just like you were.’

‘ _Bullshit_. You think that the people working for points hated it? That they were the ones eating dog-food sandwiches? ‘cause let me tell ya something; they _weren’t_. Everyone who wasn’t a lieutenant was a worker. The guy who killed Benjamin was a worker. The fat fuck who gave me those goddamn sandwiches was a worker. You think he weren’t laughing when I puked my guts out because of them? Huh? You think he was ever fucking _sorry_?’

‘Dare…’

‘Those walkers up on that wall? They were workers. That’s how he made you work for him, don’t you get that? You either were him, or you were _dead_!’

‘So what do you want to do with them?’ Maggie demands to know. ‘Round them all up, burn them on the stake? Execute them? Is that who we are now? Is that who you want us to be?’

Daryl grits his teeth and lets his fingernails dig into the palms of his hands. ‘If that keeps us safe then _yes_! It’s us or them _and it’s going to be us_! _I’ll fucking burn them all_!’

Maggie blinks. Her mouth is slack as she stares at the boy.

Daryl breathes heavily, his heart races as he watches the disappointment and horror flood her face.

Silence rings out between them.

After a couple of seconds, Maggie swallows with some difficulty. ‘We’re going back inside.’

‘I’ll take you to the gate but then I’m going out to hunt,’ Daryl says just to pick another fight. 

Maggie hunches her shoulders and wraps her arms around herself, walking back to the Colony. ‘Yeah. Sure.’

 

 

‘Grab all your stuff,’ Maggie says as she walks into his bedroom hours later. There’s a determined look on her face. ‘Clear out the cabinet and closet, you can store the rest of your bolts in the armory. I don’t even know why you have so many.’

Daryl tilts his head to the side. He’s lying on his bed, was just staring at the ceiling while fidgeting with one of his broken bolts, and now looks at her. ‘What the hell?’

‘Get up.’ She stalks over to the bed and grabs his pillow, snatching it out from under his head before grabbing the edge of his blanket. ‘Hurry it up, Dare.’

He sits up. ‘You kickin’ me out?’

‘No. Get up and grab your stuff.’

Daryl gets up, boots landing heavily on the floorboards. He walks over to the closet and takes his backpack out. He stores his bolts into an old quiver Merle had found him and puts his jacket on. ‘Okay…’

‘That’s it? All your stuff?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Where are your art supplies?’

He fishes a pencil out of the front pocket of his backpack and waves it at her.

‘That’s all you have?’

‘So?’

She sighs. ‘Not everything is an attack, Daryl. I’m just asking whether that’s all you have.’

‘Well, I ain’t hidin’ a tattoo gun up my ass, so yeah.’

She works her jaw for a moment, clearly biting back her reply. Instead, she throws him a smile that doesn’t seem as fake as he thought it would be. ‘Okay then. Let’s go.’

‘Where the hell are we even going?’

Maggie ignores him.

Together, they walk through the halls of Barrington House. Everyone is settling down for the night. Soft candle light spills out of rooms, revealing found families huddling together around board games. Some read books aloud to a captive audience while others talk softly. Young and old, all riddled with scars or with wounds far less visible.

They head up the big staircase and turn left. It takes him a second to realize that they’re heading to Maggie’s room. First, they pass Beth’s. Her door is open, too. She’s sitting on the ground, a book in her lap and clearly lost in that world. Aaron is sitting next to her. He’s staring out of the window. They’re holding hands, fingers intertwined. Every time Beth flips a page, she’ll brush her thumb over the back of Aaron’s hand. It causes the corner of his mouth to curl up ever so slightly. And he squeezes back every time.

‘Here we are,’ Maggie opens the door and ushers him inside.

Daryl looks around. ‘The fuck am I doing here?’

‘You’re going to live here.’

‘What?’ he huffs but he throws his bag into a corner anyway. ‘Are the damn Saviors moving in already or something?’

‘No. I just feel better when you’re near, that’s all. Call me selfish if you want, I don’t care.’ She sits down on the bed, still holding onto his pillow and blanket. ‘Make yourself at home. You can take the couch or the ground, or you can sleep next to me. Whatever you want.’

He snorts. ‘I ain’t sleepin’ on the floor like some damn dog. You drag me in here, you better share the bed.’

She throws the pillow onto the other side of the bed and smiles at him.

He rolls his eyes and places his crossbow next to the door. Then he walks around the room a couple of times, picking up random things and peeking out of the window, but it’s getting dark and he has been inside her room so many times that he knows exactly what trinkets litter the shelves. ‘So what now?’ he asks.

‘Nothing,’ Maggie stretches out on her side of the bed and grabs a book from her nightstand. ‘You wanted time to just be, so I won’t bother you. You can do anything you want.’

‘Right…’ He doesn’t like to waste candles so he normally spends his evenings just sitting in the windowsill from where he can see the gate. There’s always a small fire burning right next to it, so he can sit there, keeping watch, until he can’t keep his eyes open any longer. He’s not sure what he’s scared of, or why he feels the need to keep watch when he knows that there are guards walking the wall.

It’s just a feeling he can’t shake.

Maggie’s window, however, is on the other side of the house. He can’t see the gate from here.

And her candle is already burning.

He walks over to his bag and grabs his pencil. ‘You… Do you have some paper for me?’

‘Where’s your sketchbook?’

He shrugs.

‘I’ll find you a new one tomorrow. There’s paper on my desk.’

‘Thanks,’ he mutters as he slinks over to the desk to grab it. Then he hops onto the bed, sitting cross-legged so he can hunch over his paper. It’s blank. Completely blank, and his pencil hovers above it hesitantly. He doesn’t know what to draw.

He burned his sketchbook two days ago.

It was filled with the faces of people who are now dead. Sketches of Eric sitting on the steps in his garage, handing him a wrench or getting hugged from behind by Aaron. There was Carol with her piercing gaze, her little house on the edge of the kingdom, and the smile she used to save for her family. Shiva, roaring, fierce and proud next to her handler, or curled up in her cage, almost asleep. Tyreese holding Judith upside-down, a faint sketch of Sasha lining up a shot with her favorite sniper rifle.

He turned it all into ashes.

After a couple of minutes, he starts to sketch Maggie reading her book. Candle light softens her features and her dark hair obscures some of her face. It doesn’t take her long to notice that he’s drawing her. ‘Why’re you smilin’?’ he asks with a frown, ‘stop it.’

‘I’m sorry, It’s like when someone takes your picture; you just smile automatically.’

‘Whatever. You’re ruining my drawing though.’

‘I doubt that.’ She closes her book and stares back at him while he draws.

Every time their eyes meet, Daryl has more trouble repressing his own smile.

When it finally breaks through, Maggie beams at him.

‘Stop,’ Daryl moans, laughing and bringing his paper up to hide behind it.

‘I love you so much.’

‘ _Stop_. Thought you hated me after what I said this afternoon.’

She reaches out to touch some of his bangs that escaped the black baseball cap. She tugs them behind his ear. ‘You scare me sometimes,’ she admits, ‘but I _know_ you. I know who you really are. And I’ve tried to give you the space you think you need, but I can’t stand on the sidelines anymore.’

He keeps his eyes glued to his paper. ‘Meant what I said.’

‘No, you don’t. You could have killed Dwight and Sherry, but you didn’t.’

‘We needed them.’

‘We need those people, too. And I know some of them were your friends, even.’

He looks up with a snarl on his face. ‘Weren’t my-‘

‘Negan’s wives? They care an awful lot about you. I talked to them after the battle. They were worried about you. You’d burn them alive? Amber? Tanya and Frankie?’

Frankie who loves to read Harlequin novels because they are cheesy and don’t require her to think too hard. The same story every time, but with different names. With her auburn hair and green eyes, short black dress and teasing smile when she would tug at his long hair. And Tanya, who’d slumped over in a seat with a soft moan while muttering how cute he was after he’d told them that he liked Western books because of the horses. The one who’d brought him ice-cream and who’d made sure he never had to walk back to his own room alone.

‘Yeah, I would,’ he says but he doesn’t sound so sure.

‘I know you hate what I’ll say next, but… maybe we should talk about what happened, Dare,’ Maggie mutters, her hand falling to his knee and squeezing it. ‘I know you’re not talking to Paul. He says you claim that you’re fine.’

‘That rat.’

Maggie snorts. ‘At least you don’t start screaming at him as soon as he comes to wake you up from your nightmares.’

He’d done that with her the first couple of nights, hoping she’d leave him alone. That worked, but it’d only send Paul in the next time. Of course he knows what’s going on. Paul doesn’t even sleep in Barrington house. Maggie sends for him every night.

‘Just don’t want to talk to him about that, ya know,’ Daryl mutters as he wipes his nose on the back of his hand. ‘I don’t want him to think I’m… all messed up or something.’

‘Nobody thinks that, Daryl.’

‘Should,’ he mutters but knows he said too much. He bites on his tongue for a second before quickly adding; ‘I want Merle. Think it’ll be easier to talk to him.’

‘Yeah?’

He nods.

Maggie strokes his knee. ‘We’ll see him in a couple of days, at the Kingdom.’

‘I know.’ Daryl chews on his pencil. They’re going to meet at Ezekiel’s to discuss final matters and start on Alexandria’s rebuilding. The rest of his family is there now to rest and heal up. ‘Just miss him a lot.’

‘I understand. You’ll see him soon,’ she glances at the clock. ‘Is my portrait done? I’m going to sleep.’

‘Nah, too tired. Just lemme put this away.’ He climbs off the bed and kicks his boots into a corner before putting the pencil and paper on the desk again. He drapes the jacket over the back of a chair and flicks his shirt in the general direction of his bag. With careful fingers, he pulls Paul’s knife out of the sheath to put it on the desk.

He runs his fingers over the woodcarvings on the handle, the poisonous wild flowers from his youth.

A small smile creeps onto his face.

He desperately wants to go to the Kingdom, but not because Merle is there.

His fingers tighten on the knife.

 _Negan_.

 

 


	3. Digging

 

* * *

 

 

The nightmares don’t stay away just because Maggie is there.

It does make waking up easier, however. There’s a warm body pressed against his back, an arm around his waist and nose pressed into his shaggy hair. A foreign heartbeat echoing into his own chest, to remind his own of the right rhythm. An expanding chest which tells him to breathe easy. He untangles himself carefully from Maggie and sits on the edge of the matrass. There are no running footsteps in the hallways this time, no voices either. It takes him a little while longer to realize that Maggie is still asleep behind him. He didn’t wake up screaming.

There’s still sweat running down his neck though, soaking his shirt. Dark stains hidden by the black material, but it sticks to his skin uncomfortably. With a sigh, he slides off the bed and pads over to the table in the corner of the room. There’s a bucket there, filled with water. He shrugs out of his shirt and grabs a towel, dipping half of it into the water and wringing it out before wiping his chest down. He cleans his neck, his temples and wipes down his armpits before hanging the towel out to dry again.

‘Are you okay?’

Maggie’s voice causes his heart rate to jump a little.

‘Yeah, just – ‘ he hesitates for a second. ‘I had a nightmare.’

The woman hums sleepily. She reaches out and pats the matrass beside her. ‘Come back to bed. Get some more sleep.’

The words sound slurred and it makes Daryl huff out a breath of laughter. ‘You sound like one of those drunk women back at Merle’s bar. I’m coming. Was just washing up a bit, don’t wanna stink up your whole bed.’

‘Your preening woke me up,’ Maggie mutters into her pillow. There’s a little dismayed frown marring her face now and a pout makes her lower lip stick out.

‘Weren’t _preenin’_ ,’ Daryl says but he walks back and hops onto his side of the bed again. His spot is still a bit clammy but that’s okay. ‘Sorry I woke you up.’

‘Don’t be, just come back here,’ she holds out an arm so he can slide back into the spot right next to her. ‘You put out heat like a stove.’ She tugs him even closer, ‘do you want to talk?’

‘About me being a stove?’

‘Nightmares,’ Maggie mumbles after swatting blindly at his head. Her pinky manages to catch some strands of his hair.

‘Nah.’ It’s still early. He guesses that it’s just before dawn, around the same time he normally tears himself from his dreams. If he’d been back in his own room Paul would have come to check on him, though sometimes Daryl managed to evade him and get down to the stables to start on some chores already.

Maggie looks tired however. If he gets up, she probably won’t go to back to sleep either, so he settles down again. Beth told him that it’s important for Maggie to get plenty of rest. He pulls the blanket back over his bare chest and shoulder.

‘Let’s get some more sleep,’ he mumbles.

Maggie hums something and promptly drifts off.

In the semi-darkness, he listens how her breathing slowly evens out again. Deeper and slower than normal. He counts her breaths. In and out. And falls asleep again, too. It’s hours later when he wakes up again. There are fingers carding through his hair, nails scratching teasingly behind his ear like he’s some sort of dog. He groans and digs his head deeper into his pillow, curling up to try and escape the touches.

‘Good morning, Dare,’ the fingers curl around his ear and tug. ‘Up you get.’

‘I hate you.’

‘I’m so hurt,’ Maggie dead-pans. ‘Come on.’ She slides off the bed and washes her face while the teenager moans and groans among the blankets and pillows. He stretches, arching his back off the matrass before falling back onto it.

‘Too tired,’ he says, voice rough and deep.

Maggie smiles while she fixes her hair. ‘My daddy had a perfect solution for that. I never wanted to get out of bed when I was your age, and Annette tried to coax me out with kind words and _five more minutes_. He wouldn’t have none of that,’ she laughs. ‘He threw a bucket of ice cold water over me whenever I stayed in bed one minute longer than I should have.’

‘ _Really_? That’s so mean,’ Daryl laughs. ‘Never had no problem wakin’ up before, Will didn’t care if I weren’t on time for school and I always woke up before sunrise at the prison and stuff. Usually had to kick Carl out of bed in time for his chores. Shane never had to come get me,’ Daryl muses as he stares at the ceiling. Then he sits up, ‘there was this one time though when I was still asleep and Negan sa-‘

He stares at Maggie in horror.

Maggie pushes a final strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Yeah?’ she prompts.

He feels sick.

‘Negan had to come and wake you up?’

Daryl closes his mouth and swallows with some difficulty.

‘Dare…’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl croaks, fingers digging into the bedding until it hurts. ‘He – he came into my – a, _a_ room to wake me up.’

Maggie turns to him. ‘Really? And how did he manage that, because I’m having a hard time right now. Maybe I can learn something.’

‘He sang a creepy song.’

The woman’s eyebrows shoot up. ‘ _He sang a song_?’

‘Yeah….’ Daryl brings his hand up to gnaw on his fingernail. ‘A creepy one.’

‘Every song is creepy when he’s the one singing it, I bet,’ Maggie says. ‘Of all the things people told me about him… he sings creepy songs to wake people up. Nobody told me _that_.’

The teenager folds his legs beneath him and chews on his fingers. He glances up his friend, eyes still small from sleeping and hair a mess. ‘People told ya stuff about him?’ he asks while trying to appear smaller than he is, shoulders drooping.

‘Of course.’

‘Like – what kind of stuff?’

‘Like – none of your business.’ Maggie grabs the bucket and with a laugh, empties it all over the young man sitting on her bed. He jumps off, shrieking because of the cold, and falls onto the floor when his feet get tangled in the sheets. He wheezes and shivers.

‘What the _fuck_?’

‘Rise and shine, sweetie.’

 

 

It’s at least two hours after sunrise. They’ve missed breakfast, which makes Daryl feel guilty. Hanging out the blankets to dry took him a little longer because Maggie refused to help, and finding a clean shirt is a bit of task these days, but he managed to find a red shirt on the bottom of his backpack. There are some stains on it of course, but nothing really disgusting like blood or brain matter.

Maggie seems to approve, so it’s fine.

Together, they walk into the empty dining hall. The cooks are already cleaning up the last plates and wiping down the tables.

‘Good morning, Cheri,’ Maggie greets as she walks up to the workers. ‘Did Frank leave the plans for the garden here, or did he – oh there they are, thank you,’ she takes a clipboard from the woman and sits down at a table, studying it thoughtfully. ‘This looks really good.’

‘Don’t tell me you’re going to get started on that today,’ Cheri says as she raises an eyebrow and puts a hand on her hip. ‘Honey, you’re going to have a heatstroke out there. It’s over a hundred degrees in the damn shade. The good Lord made days like these so pregnant women can sit in the shade and admire their swollen ankles while sipping their sweet tea. You feel me, girl?’

Maggie laughs, ‘I feel you, Cheri. That’s exactly what I’m going to do.’

‘Yo,’ Daryl slides onto the table, sitting up on his knees so he can look into the big pots and pans of the kitchen brigade. ‘You have anything left?’

‘Excuse yourself?’ Cheri asks, putting a hand over her heart in mock outrage, ‘young man, get down from that table and stop dripping water everywhere. I’m trying to run a kitchen here.’

Daryl grins and falls back onto the ground. ‘Sorry ma’am.’

‘That’s right you’re sorry. _Dixon’s_. Raised in a barn, the both of you,’ she sniffs.

‘Trailer park.’

The woman sucks on her teeth as she looks him up and down. ‘Now, I came from a trailer park, too. And we certainly didn’t climb on furniture we had no business climbing on, let me tell you. So there.’

‘There _what_?’ Daryl laughs as he rubs at his nose. He likes Cheri a lot and always makes sure that she’s there when he stops by to deliver his game on the days he is allowed to hunt. She always slips him an extra apple for Khamsin if he manages to bag a deer. Unlike everyone else, she’s never overly happy to see him however, and never lets him get away with his usual shenanigans. When he walks in with muddy boots, he’s on his hands and knees two seconds later to clean it all up.

‘Raised in a barn!’ Cheri cries, ‘are you slow, boy? No – no, I don’t care what you say. You’re giving trailer parks a bad name in the apocalypse, and that’s saying something, mister. Now, I believe you had a question you wanted answered. And what do we do with questions we want answered?’

Daryl screws up his nose.

‘We ask them nicely!’ Cheri laughs as she reaches over to tap his nose with a wooden spoon.

‘Okay! Okay, sorry. Is there any food left, ma’am? I’m sorry we’re late.’

‘Well,’ Cheri looks at Maggie who gives her a pointed look, ‘I saved your momma here a plate because she asked real nicely to do so this morning. But there’s cold oatmeal left for you, if you want it.’

He _hates_ oatmeal, especially if it’s cold. There’s a queasiness in this stomach as he watches how she stirs the cold mass, lifting the big spoon up to let it slowly splash back into the pot again. With her free hand, she grabs a plate from under the counter and slides it over to Maggie.

The woman lifts the lid off it. Steam rises up.

Daryl scratches at his cheek for a moment. ‘Oh,’ he says. ‘Okay. Good, so you saved her some... Okay, can I have some of the oatmeal then?’

‘Yes, you may,’ Cheri nods.

A couple of moments later, he carries his bowl to a table and sits down. Maggie joins him. It makes him feel less guilty that they’re late because of him now, because her plate is almost overflowing. Eating for two, Merle had joked while stealing something off her plate a couple of days ago.

He frowns while trying to stir the oatmeal. ‘You asked her to save you some, but not me?’

‘I was up in time,’ Maggie points out. ‘I’ve been awake for two hours now.’

‘So? Could have asked her to save me some, too.’

‘I thought you didn’t want people all up in your business anymore, or treating you any different.’

‘Still want you to have my back though,’ Daryl mutters. ‘This is so gross.’

‘You’ve had worse though. Right?’

He hunches his shoulders and plants one elbow onto the table, hunching over his bowl. ‘Yeah, guess so,’ he says before shoveling the paste into his mouth. It’s disgusting. ‘Just don’t really seem fair, I mean – I ain’t always lazin’ about, ya know… I pull my weight and I sleep in _one_ time and I don’t get breakfast no more?’

Maggie puts a hand on her belly. ‘You’re right, Dare. I’m sorry, I should have asked them to save you some, too.’

‘Yeah, you’re changing the rules on me. I don’t like it,’ Daryl murmurs. He glances up through his fringe. ‘Thought you wanted me to take it easy? So I sleep in and now I’m being punished?’

‘Oatmeal isn’t punishment, Daryl.’

The boy shrugs and eyes her meat for a second. ‘Still ain’t fair.’

‘I know, and I already said I’m sorry. We can share.’

‘Nah, you eat that. I’ll get up in time tomorrow.’ He eats his breakfast in silence. Some droplets are still gliding over his skin, causing him to shiver sometimes. Or maybe it’s Maggie’s gaze that won’t leave him. Behind them, the cooks clean up the last pots and pans and get ready for their break. Most will head back to their trailers to read a book or see their friends before coming back and getting ready for lunch.

Daryl rubs at the side of his nose. He hasn’t told Maggie anything about his stay at the sanctuary.

Rick is the only one who knows how he’d broken down, how he’d knelt for the monster with the bat. How he’d become Negan after days spent in a cell, naked and listening to that fucking song while staring at the picture of Glenn’s bashed in skull. The others have only seen or heard flashes. Paul during his accidental rescue mission of course, and Carl while he was Negan’s guest for an afternoon.

The others can only guess at what has happened to him. That’s not really fair, Daryl knows. He hunches over his bowl some more. He can’t imagine what it’s like having to guess at what happened to someone you love. That you have to watch how they get dragged off by a monster, thrown into a truck, and are returned to your doorstep weeks later. Broken, and covered in new scars.

‘Remember when Rick tried to make oatmeal once? At the prison?’

Daryl snorts despite his dark thoughts. ‘Yeah. That asshole. He _knew_ he’d burned it and he still gave me ‘nd Shane the last scoops. And it was all black and brown and caked together. Was gross.’

Maggie smiles at him. ‘Yeah, that was mean of him.’

‘ _Mean_. Pfft. I was ready to put an arrow in his ass.’

‘I remember. You were so mad.’

‘Hmm,’ Daryl hums as he kicks his feet under the table. ‘Always bitchin’ about Lori and her damn lumpy pancakes from way back when, and he gives me _that_. Like, good lord. Will even managed not to burn the oatmeal while he was drunk _and_ high, so what was the damn problem with officer friendly anyway?’

‘Will used to give you oatmeal?’

‘Sometimes,’ Daryl nods, ‘like – in winter? When it was cold, he’d make that. Said mom used to do it but…’ he shrugs, ‘she used to thrown all kinds of shit in there to make it better. Honey, peanut butter – I don’t know. Sweet stuff.’

‘Is that where the infamous Dixon sweet tooth came from?’

He grins shyly at her. ‘Guess so. Once I’d saved up all my money and bought these pop-tarts, right? With the smores in them? First bite, _I burned my tongue_! Couldn’t taste a damn thing. I wanted to fucking cry.’ He leans back in his chair. ‘Still ate them all in one go though.’

Maggie laughs. ‘Why would you do that? All of them in one go?’

‘Was a value pack or something, too. Like, the big ones? Sixteen packets.’

‘You ate thirty-two pop-tarts.’

‘Yeah. I was sick the whole night.’ He laughs at Maggie’s stunned expression. ‘Otherwise Will would have taken them all! I’d worked hard for those four bucks, okay? Mowed the lawn for that rich bitch who used to live on the same road my school was on. I mowed it all with this goddamn ancient machine, right? And then she made me cut the edges with scissors. It was crazy.’

‘But it got you the pop-tarts.’

He laughs. ‘Got me the pop-tarts, yeah. Worth it.’

‘Was it?’ Maggie asks skeptically.

‘ _Totally_.’ He gets up and takes his bowl and her empty plate. ‘I’ll wash these up or Cheri will tan my hide. What do you want me to do today? I can go out to hunt or-‘

‘We’re working in the gardens today. I need you help with some heavy lifting.’

‘Sure,’ he’s smiling as he walks to the kitchen. It’s empty now, but that doesn’t matter. He grabs a bit of water and washes the bowl and plate, scrubbing them clean. It takes longer because the water is no longer steaming hot. Then he dries them with a cloth hanging from a hook nearby, and puts them on the counter. He’s not sure where they’re stored. Hopefully, Cheri will see that he at least tried to do his part.

Maggie is no longer in the dining room when he gets back. He grabs his baseball cap and puts it on backwards, pushing some of his hair beneath it so it won’t prick into his eyes. Maybe she’s already outside, he thinks as he heads to the front door.

‘He’s talking.’

‘About pop tarts.’

‘At this point, I don’t care what he talks about,’ Maggie says as she looks out over Hilltop colony.

Paul sighs. ‘Do you think it’s a good idea to let him go to the Kingdom? Negan is there.’

‘So is Carl, Michonne, Tara. _Merle_. Everyone he loves.’

‘And all the Saviors,’ Paul pushes his hands into his pockets. ‘And _Rick_.’

Maggie glances at him. ‘So?’

‘He _hates_ Rick.’

The woman shakes her head. ‘You’re wrong – no,’ she holds up a hand when Paul opens his mouth to interrupt. ‘You’re wrong about that. Their relationship is… complicated. Always has been. Rick cuffed his father to a roof back in Atlanta. It wasn’t completely his fault, anyone would have done the same thing, but Daryl blamed him. He hated him then.’

‘What made him stop?’

‘Time,’ Maggie murmurs. ‘you have to give him time. He’s not… he doesn’t hate Rick.’

‘Negan lined them up and made him chose. He chose Daryl.’

‘Of course he did. And the next day Daryl came to him and said that he understood. There hadn’t been a real choice there. It didn’t mean anything. Weeks later, he’s throwing it in Rick’s face to wind him up. It’s what he does, Jesus.’

‘Why?’

Daryl folds his arms and leans against the wall. He chews on his lower lip.

‘Because it hurts,’ she wraps her jacket tighter around herself. ‘It hurts them both.’

Daryl wipes a hand over his face. He pushes himself away from the wall and walks towards the duo. ‘Yo,’ he calls out to make Maggie turn and Paul throw a look over his shoulder. ‘Please stop talkin’ about me behind my back. I don’t like it.’ He jumps down the set of stairs, into the sunshine. He glares at Paul, ‘and I don’t _hate_ Rick. You don’t know shit about me.’

‘So you just pretend to?’ Paul challenges. ‘Rick certainly believes you hate him, so good job.’

‘Don’t,’ Maggie says softly as she puts a hand on his arm. ‘Let me deal with it.’

Daryl sniffs and flicks the scout off before heading over to the gardens.

 

 

It helps that Maggie makes him work in the gardens. It’s hard work. He needs to dig holes and trenches, crawl over the loose ground to plant seeds, carry heavy buckets of water and move piles of dirt around with a wheelbarrow. Every night he falls into their bed, exhausted and too tired to stay awake a second longer. He doesn’t have the energy to fight with anyone anymore. Some mornings Maggie lets him take Khamsin out for a ride, just so they can both feel the air rush through their hair, but he’s back to work straight after.

The rest of the community watches them work together. Maggie sitting in the shade or on her knees next to him in the dirt, showing him how to plant the seeds correctly, and him panting next to her, drenched in sweat but nodding attentively. He’s never been lazy, of course, but he’s mostly been working on his speed in the woods. Running laps when he’d stayed in the Kingdom, and chasing squirrels and rabbit while everything was still quiet at Alexandria. At the Sanctuary he’d played Ping-Pong of course, chasing Negan around the table while laughing, but he hadn’t been allowed to work on his condition or shape in any other way.

There hadn’t been any need.

So his muscles scream now, but it starts to get easier after a couple of days. He’s used to the sun beating down on him. The shirt is discarded even before noon. He mostly uses it as a towel whenever he takes a break.

‘You sure about that?’ Daryl asks with a frown as he grabs his water bottle and takes a big gulp.

‘Yes.’ Maggie is sitting against a tree, in the shade. She’s making bowstrings on a rig, fingers red from the amount of twine she has already twisted between the nails on the rig.

‘But what if you need her here?’

‘We won’t need her here, but we’ll miss her while she’s gone.’

‘Words, bull,’ Daryl mutters as he falls down into the grass beside her. It’s a phrase his father used to say, and he has found himself using it more and more these days. Maggie is leading Hilltop Colony now, with the help of Beth and Paul. People come up to her all the time to ask for advice and counsel. Daryl listens to most of the conversations. Most people know exactly what needs to be done but they’re too scared to call the shots themselves, so Maggie has to do it for them. Messages hidden in empty phrases and soft words, gentle nudges to get them moving into the right direction.

Words and bullshit.

Maggie smiles down at the work. ‘Beth will be fine. It will be good for her to train with the doctors of the Kingdom, and she’ll come back in time.’

‘But what if something happens when she’s gone? I won’t be here either and-‘

‘Enid is staying here, and so is Paul. The rest will come to stay here, too.’

‘Like Rick and all them?’

‘Maybe. I’m sure Carl is coming here for a while to stay with Enid. I think Rick will want Judith to stay here, too.’

‘Okay.’

Maggie glances at him. ‘I thought you’d be more excited.’

‘Well, I’m going over there, and they’re coming here, so we’re going to miss each other.’

She frowns, ‘but you’re coming back with Tara, right? You’re just going over there to see Merle.’

‘Sure.’

‘ _Dare_.’

He gets up again and gestures to the fields. ‘Gonna dig some more goddamn holes, okay? Hate bein’ a farmer by the way. ‘s boring.’

‘It’s good for you,’ Maggie says softly.

‘What?’

‘Dig them deeper than before; different crop!’

‘Yes ma’am,’ Daryl mutters as he heads back over to his work. Out in the distance, he can see how a couple of the guys are sitting on the ground, all listening to a woman who has drawn schematics on the side of Barrington house. Maggie wants a windmill and more pumps at the river, a new water filtration system and maybe solar power if they can find the panels.

The woman points at another drawing with a large stick.

The plans for the expansion.

He spits on the ground and goes back to digging.

 

 

‘I remember how you would come around to work on that,’ Aaron says from where he’s leaning against one of the poles of the barn. ‘It seems like forever ago.’

Daryl looks up. There’s motor oil on his hands and on the bridge of his nose. A swipe on his left cheek. He’s crouched besides his beloved bike, now just cleaning it up after spending all morning checking every single part. It’s been a while since anyone has used it. Merle had stored it in a shed somewhere north, too scared that the Saviors would find it during one of their raids, but the key had been hidden in one of Paul’s books. It’s back in his pocket now.

The engine purrs once again.

‘Yeah,’ Daryl says as he turns back to the machine. ‘It does.’

‘Do you remember that time when – when you came to have dinner? Eric kept pushing me to invite you over but I didn’t think you’d ever accept. But you did.’ Aaron sits down on a bale of hay. He looks sad even though he’s smiling. ‘He was so smug about that afterwards. What made you say yes?’

Daryl shrugs. ‘I just like spaghetti.’

Aaron laughs.

‘Easiest way to get his attention,’ Beth nods. She’s lounging on another bale of hay next to Daryl. His baseball cap is covering her blonde curls since she stole it earlier. ‘Glenn figured it out first and gave him a cookie.’

‘Oreo.’

‘Oreo is a cookie,’ she bounces back.

‘Whatever, girl.’

Beth stretches her leg out and lightly taps her foot against his shoulder. ‘Are you done yet?’

‘Good lord, you’re such a fucking nag. You’re all packed up, ready to go ‘nd everything?’

‘ _Yes, Daryl_ ,’ she sing-songs while rolling her eyes.

‘Okay, then gimme back my cap and go get Maggie. We’re leaving,’ he gets to his feet and wipes his hands on his torn jeans. His crossbow is already clipped to the back of the bike and he doesn’t need to take any stuff. Everything he needs, the Kingdom can provide, or so Ezekiel claims.

Beth jumps down and darts past him, pressing a kiss to Aaron’s cheek before running off to find her sister.

‘I’m surprised you’re not taking Khamsin,’ Aaron comments.

‘The bike is faster. We want to get there before nightfall.’

‘You could leave tomorrow morning. Khamsin can make it in a day.’

Daryl checks his crossbow one more time. ‘Yeah, well... haven’t driven in a while, so… yeah.’

This way, they’ll only be on the road for a couple of hours instead of an entire day. It’s wasting gas, he knows that, but it’s better than taking their chance out on the road. Maybe they haven’t cleared out all the Saviors. Maybe some are just waiting somewhere to catch them off guard.

The bike is faster.

Aaron nods his understanding, ‘you didn’t answer my question though. Why did you come and have dinner with us?’

Daryl sighs. ‘Dunno, just… There was a party, right? At Deanna’s place, to welcome us? Glenn and Maggie made me go. Everyone looked at me funny there, like I was some kind of crazy animal. Guess I were a little… different, I don’t know. Not like Rick or Tyreese. Sure as hell were nothing like Glenn.’

Aaron lowers his gaze and shakes his head but doesn’t say anything.

‘You two were the only ones who weren’t lookin’ at me like I were dog shit, is all. That's why I decided to come in.’ With a grunt, he pushes his bike off the standard and out of the barn. The man follows him, eyes sunken and hands unsteady. At the gate, Daryl parks his bike again. He looks out over the fields, the wall and the house. Beth and Maggie are hugging on the steps.

‘You’ll look after her, right?’ Daryl asks.

‘Of course.’

‘You’re staying here, even after Alexandria is rebuilt?’

Aaron shrugs. ‘I haven’t decided yet.’

‘Right.’

‘What about you?’

‘Hmm?’

‘Are _you_ going to stay here?’ Aaron looks at him sharply.

‘Guess. See you when I see you,’ Daryl claps him on the shoulder before making his way over to Paul, who is sitting on the fence surrounding Khamsin’s pen. He’s watching Maggie and Beth’s farewell but tears his gaze away when the young man approaches.

‘Hey,’ Daryl mutters.

‘Don’t you mean; bye?’

‘Yeah. Don’t burn this place down while we’re away.’

Paul smiles and hops down from the fence. ‘I promise we won’t.’

‘Okay,’ Daryl kicks one boot against the other. ‘So… goodbye.’

‘See you soon, Daryl.’

It’s not really clear who moves first. Maybe it’s Paul who curls an arm around his broad shoulders to pull him close, or maybe it’s Daryl who steps forward and lets his hand fall to Paul’s hips, pulling him close, but a second later they’re hugging fiercely, holding each other. Daryl bows his head and lets his forehead rest on Paul’s shoulder. He breathes in slowly.

Paul exhales shakily. ‘Be careful.’

Daryl nods as he pulls away for just a fraction. Their noses almost touch as they look at each other.

A smile graces Paul’s features.

His eyes are blue, Daryl thinks for the millionth time. And they have specks of green in them. _Definitely_.

Paul reaches out and brushes the dark hair out of the younger man’s face, fingertips trailing over the shell of his reddened ear. ‘Don’t run,’ he whispers. ‘You promised.’

Daryl closes his eyes and feels how the man kisses his cheek. When he opens them again, Paul is long gone. He’s off in the distance, hugging Beth while laughing and curling an arm around Enid, who looks sad to see her siblings go.

Maggie walks over and replaces Paul, hugging him just as tightly, if not tighter. Then she holds him at an arms-length and sighs. She licks her thumb and starts to scrub his face clean.

‘Ew, gross! _Stop_!’ Daryl laughs as he playfully tries to dodge her finger.

‘Hold still and it’s over quicker,’ Maggie says as she wipes the last streak of motor oil from his face. Then she cups his cheeks with both hands. She forces him to look her in the eye. ‘ _I love you_.’

‘Yeah, I love you, too.’

‘Come back soon.’

Daryl nods. ‘Yeah – okay.’

‘Say hi to Merle from me, tell him we miss him.’

‘ _We_?’

‘Just me,’ Maggie allows with a laugh. ‘I always feel better when I have both Dixon’s at my beck and call. Now go, before I change my mind about letting you go.’

Daryl grins and steps back. He gets on the bike first, straightening it before allowing Beth to climb on, too. She settles behind him easily, hands on his waist and feet on the pegs. Two taps on his ribs means that she’s ready to go.

Daryl whistles sharply and fires up the engine.

The gates open.

 

 


	4. Reunion

 

* * *

 

 

The road to the Kingdom is long even though they cut through the woods and cross a small town that would have been dangerous territory just a couple of weeks ago. It would have taken them too close to the Sanctuary then. The proximity to the place still causes Daryl to open up the gas and tear through the town, easily dodging walkers that amble down the road. Beth is holding on to him tightly, but she doesn’t seem scared. Her nails aren’t digging into his jacket and she never asks him to slow down, not even when he cuts a corner sharply, almost hitting the curb and a piece of rubble.

It feels good to be back out on the road again.

The wind is deafening, and so is the roar of his engine. They cross a bridge and swerve past some stalled cars. Some have burned out completely but others seem to be in decent shape. He wonders whether machines like these will just die out once they run out of gasoline. Whether they’ll just become memories of his youth, another part of the life they used to have. Maybe Judith will never learn to drive a car, and maybe Maggie’s child will never hear the roar of a bike.

It makes him a little sad to think about that.

Their world will be a lot smaller. Not just because of cars and bikes, of course. Planes, too. Ships that could travel the oceans. None of that will exist anymore. Their home will be their state, and their state will be their entire world. Before the apocalypse he’d never been outside of Georgia, but at least he knew that there were other places out there. Other countries. Russia and China, Germany, France and England. Australia, too. People on the six o’clock news speaking in different tongues or with strange accents. None of those places will exist for them anymore. Fairytales, legends and myths. What’s the point of learning about them if you can’t ever get there anymore?

So many things will be lost.

So many other things will have to be rebuild, too.

Alexandria first, and then everything else. A whole society from the ground up, trading goods and services. The Kingdom with its riches, and Hilltop with its manpower. The sanctuary, with half of everything.

Beth suddenly taps on his shoulder, two times, to indicate that she wants to stop.

They’ve been driving for almost two hours now. They blew past the half-way point a couple of miles back.

Daryl nods to show that he understands her request. He continues for another mile because he knows there’s a good point of them to stop there. It’s a place he’d seen on the maps while they’d been planning the final battle. A scenic point, really. It used to be a picnic place for weary travelers. It’s mostly overgrown of course and a couple of the wooden tables are broken now, but he can’t be sure whether that’s due to time, or vandalism. Rusted out trashcans are still overflowing, and there’s a small building on the left that were the restrooms once. There’s a small path that leads to the ridge. From there, people could see the river run for miles.

He can hear the water as soon as he shuts the engine off. The small parking lot is right of the main road but separated from it by a couple of trees. If anyone drives past, they won’t be able to spot them. Daryl looks behind them to check whether the bike left any traces on the asphalt. It didn’t.

‘Thank you,’ Beth says cheerfully as she climbs off the engine. Her movements are clumsy because she’s not used to hopping on and off yet, but she manages anyway.

‘Why’d ya wanna stop?’

‘Because my bum hurts, I’m thirsty and I need to pee.’

‘Good lord.’

‘Hey,’ she laughs, ‘you asked. Okay, you dig out the water bottle,’ she throws her pack at his feet while he pushes his bike onto the standard, ‘and I’ll go pee.’

‘Yeah, okay,’ Daryl agrees as he squats down to rummage through her stuff. He glances up when he notices that she’s heading down the little footpath that will lead to the river. ‘Hey! The hell are you going?’

Beth throws a look over her shoulder. ‘I told you; I’m going to pee!’

‘Just pee there!’ He waves his hand at her direction. ‘Why’d you gotta take a hike?’

‘Because not everyone is a savage like you, Dare,’ she shouts back.

‘You think there’s a golden piss-pot waitin’ for you behind that bush or something?’

‘I think you can’t see me behind that bush!’

Daryl sighs and shakes his head. ‘Whatever, girl.’ He goes back to digging through her stuff to find her water bottle. When he finds it, he sits down on the ground and takes a couple of sips. He shrugs out of his jacket, puts it on the ground so Beth can sit on it when she comes back. The engine ticks behind him, the metal cooling down after the long ride. The wind rushes through the trees and beyond, he can hear the river roar. Beth has disappeared behind the bushes, her footsteps have faded into the white noise of their surroundings.

Only now, he starts to worry about what will happen when they get to the Kingdom. What it will be like to see his family again. He has missed them fiercely, misses them every second when they’re not together, and he’ll feel better once he knows that they’re all safe. He’s haunted by visions of the Kingdom, fallen. That the gates are open, the houses burned down, the screams of his people still ringing between the trees. That somehow the prison didn’t hold, that people got out, away, somehow got their hands on knives and guns and torches. That the animals they’d imprisoned got out. It’s not possible. He knows that, but that doesn’t stop him from worrying.

Branches snap. He glances up and watches warily how the bushes rustle. He almost wants to call out to Beth whether she has forgotten all the lessons he’d taught her back when they ran from the prison, but the words die on his tongue. His blood turns to ice.

It’s Beth, pushing through the bushes and then stumbling onto the parking lot.

There’s blood all over her front.

Red against her white shirt.

‘Wha- Beth! _Beth_!’ He screams as he scrambles to his feet, yanking his gun out the holster on his thigh before running towards her. The world spins. All he can see is the blood on her chest.

‘Walker,’ she says as she pulls a face. ‘Can’t even go to the bathroom – what – Dare! It’s nothing, it’s just – dirt, or whatever – _Dare_.’

He reaches her, grabs hold of her shoulders and pushes them back so he can look at her shirt. The gun digs into her skin. It _is_ dirt, he realizes. There’s no blood anywhere, just smears of black and brown, but he still can’t breathe right. His heart is hammering in his chest. There’s suddenly sweat pouring down his back, drenching his shirt.

‘Dare?’ Beth ducks her head to catch his eye. ‘I’m fine. I’m all right. It was just a walker, he fell into me when I took him down.’

Dazedly, he looks down at her hand. Her knife is bloody.

‘Daryl. Daryl, look at me. I need you to take a deep breath for me.’

He can’t. He can’t breathe, he can’t see right, he-

‘Deep breath, just one, Dare. Everything is all right. You’re safe. I’m right here with you.’

Her voice is just white noise as he gasps for breath, choking on nothing at all.

‘Can I touch you?’

He shakes his head and backs away, wobbling on his feet. He’s terrified. He thinks about Carol, who’d been shot in the chest, blood pouring out of the wound and down her shirt, jeans, onto the concrete of the Sanctuary. There’s blood on his hands, sticky and warm, causing him to lose his grip on the machete. He can see how Shane’s blood drips down the drain. A bolt pierces Denise’s eye and there’s blood, blood, _blood_.

‘ _Daryl_. You need to sit down. Sit down.’

He sinks to his knees. His hands shake as he puts them on the cracked concrete. His lungs hurt because he’s not breathing quick enough, or too quickly, or not at all. The world spins. He’s not sure where he is anymore. Sweat drips down his temples and he fears it might turn into blood, too.

Beth sits down across from him. ‘Good job. Now I need you to take one deep breath, Dare. Can you look at me, please? We can do it together. Look.’

He looks up.

She takes a really deep breath and holds it for a second. ‘See? Just like that. One, two, three. Breathe in.’

He breathes in. And out again.

‘Perfect,’ Beth praises. ‘One more. You’re having a panic attack, but everything is all right. You’re safe. I’m fine and watching over you. I got you, dare. One more now.’

He breathes and she talks him through it, breath for breath until he does it without her urging.

It takes him a while to relax again. Slowly, he sits down on his ass, rubbing his hands over his face before taking his cap off and running them through his clammy hair. His heart rate settles down again as the panic leaves his system. He’s exhausted and embarrassed.

Beth looks around the parking lot. ‘This used to be a really pretty place, I think. People would take a break here on their way to Washington. We went camping once in another state, stopped at a place just like this. Except it was because Shawn needed to puke. Car sick,’ she grins when Daryl peeks up at her through his drenched fringe.

He swallows thickly.

‘Pussy,’ Beth growls in what can only be an impression of Merle.

Daryl snorts.

‘Did you ever get car sick?’

‘Only when Glenn were drivin’,’ he mutters.

Beth chuckles as she gets up to retrieve the water bottle he’d thrown aside. ‘Come sit with me in the shade,’ she orders. She grabs his jacket from the ground too and sits down in the tall grass beside the bike, under the shade of the trees. She smiles brightly when he falls down next to her. ‘Feeling better?’

‘Guess…’

‘Great! Panic attacks can be really scary, especially if you haven’t had them before.’

He rubs at his knee. ‘Thought I were dyin’ or something. Thanks for... you know… makin’ sure I didn’t lose my damn mind.’

‘You’re welcome. Here.’ She passes him the water bottle. ‘There was a girl at my school who used to have panic attacks. The first time it happened, nobody knew what to do so they kept trying to touch her, rubbing her back and everything. That only made it worse for her. A teacher taught us what to do if it happened again.’

He fidgets with the bottle. ‘Did it happen again?’

She shrugs. ‘Not while I was around. She got scared in big crowds of people, so I guess she just avoided assemblies after that. Kind of ironic, I guess. Everyone tried to help and they only made it worse.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Guess you know all about that, huh?’

He takes a sip and screws the cap back onto the bottle. ‘Hmm.’

Beth hums back as she puts her head on his shoulder. ‘You smell, Dare.’

He laughs and elbows her hard. ‘Stop.’

‘What? You do!’

‘I thought I were dying, you should be thankful I didn’t piss my pants. Deal with the sweat or get off of me.’

‘You’re a mess,’ Beth sighs. She snuggles closer, hugging his arm while closing her eyes.

‘Yeah.’ He lets his head rest against hers. He draws figurines in the dirt next to his boot. Small flowers and crooked stars, a tree and a little house, a sun with sunglasses on. ‘I really tried not to be a mess, ya know?’

She laughs and squeezes his arm. ‘You’re too cute. I love you.’

‘I’m serious.’

‘All right. I think you worry too much about trying to be normal. What you’re going through? That _is_ normal, Dare. I would be terrified if you were your happy, goofy self after all of that. _That_ would be messed up.’

He grabs a small branch and starts to break it off into smaller pieces. ‘Why am I the only one who’s fucked up then? I weren’t the only one there. I wasn’t the only one who had to… do stuff.’

‘You really think you’re the only one who is struggling? You think that Aaron is okay? That Paul never wakes up in cold sweat? That Merle is just going about his business like before? Everyone is different after all of that. _Everyone_.’

He shrugs.

‘Just because you don’t see it, doesn’t mean it’s not happening.’ She kisses his shoulder. ‘Tell me what’s bothering you most right now. The dreams?’

‘No.’ He throws a piece of the branch towards his bike. It bounces off the tire. ‘Just…’ He searches for the right words. ‘Like… I mean… Never mind, I don’t know. You ready to get going again, or is your butt still hurtin’ something fierce?’

‘My butt is fine, thank you for asking though,’ Beth laughs as she shoves his shoulder. ‘Be a gentleman and help a lady up.’

Together they walk back to the bike. The sun is shining and Beth hums a tune under her breath. Daryl glances at her. The blonde curls are pulled into a high ponytail, the ends almost white. Her clothes are dirty, jeans torn at her knees, and her shirt now ruined by the walker. But she’s smiling. Her cheeks are covered by freckles drawn out by the sunshine.

‘I missed ya.’

She looks surprised. ‘You did?’

‘Yeah.’ He wipes his nose on the back of his hand. ‘Loads.’

Her smile turns soft as she reaches out to stroke his cheek. ‘Since when do you have stubble? My goodness, it really has been ages since we hung out. Hey! I still have something of yours, but you’re not getting it back right now. Let’s not scare Rick.’

Daryl frowns. ‘What?’

She digs around in the pockets of her jeans and pulls out something silver. Will’s zippo lighter.

Daryl grins and reaches out with a shaky hand, ‘Paul gave it to you then?’

‘He did.’ She holds it out of his reach.

He shrugs and puts his hands in his pockets. ‘Just wanted to let you know I were thinking about y’all.’

‘Thank you. I’ll hold onto it until you don’t want to burn an entire factory down, okay?’

She looks so cheerful that it makes him laugh. ‘A’right. You hold onto it then.’ He swings his leg over the bike and pushes it up, starting the engine and revving it. ‘Okay, get on, I’ve been waitin’ on your lazy ass forever.’

‘Please and thank you, _jeees_ ,’ Beth laughs as she puts her foot on the peg before swinging her leg over, too. ‘That sweet moment sure was short. I’m ready.’

‘Other feet,’ He reaches down and taps her boot to get her to put it on the peg. ‘Okay. Hold on.’

Beth hugs him so tightly that it takes his breath away. ‘I’ve missed you, too.’

 

 

The gates to the Kingdom open as soon as they turn the last corner. It’s late in the afternoon. The sun is already sinking behind the buildings, casting a warm glow over the land. They’ve stopped twice more, once because Daryl had to pee and once to have a late lunch and drink some water. Hanging out with Beth now has made him realize just how much he has missed her. The past couple of days she has been busy with her chores, and he has been working in the gardens with Maggie, so they’ve only spent time together during dinner and breakfast before collapsing on their beds again.

He’s always amazed by her. She’s always warm, but never soft. Laughing and smiling and singing, always asking people how they are doing and how she can help. But her knife is deadly and thrown with a precision that makes Enid beam with pride. She has mastered the art of flipping the switch a long time ago, as Shane would have described it.

‘Ey, Dixon,’ one of the guards shouts as he parks his bike and shuts the engine off. ‘Who did you bring, huh?’ The man is leaning on the banister, leering down at Beth with a toothy grin on his face.

Daryl waits until she jumps down from the bike before doing the same and grabbing his crossbow. With a hum, he inspects which bolt is in place. An old one, meant for walkers. ‘My sister,’ he says as he swings the weapon up and fires it, shooting a bolt right past the man’s head. ‘So you best watch your mouth.’

The man hoots and his friends laugh at him. ‘My bad, kid! My bad. Didn’t mean nothing, miss.’

Beth grins up at him. ‘Sure you didn’t.’

‘Honest! Just appreciating from a distance,’ he grins back.

Daryl glares at him. ‘Why don’t you take your damn appreciation for a walk and go tell Ezekiel and Merle we’ve fucking arrived, huh?’

‘Dare,’ Beth says soothingly. ‘It’s fine. You know your way around here, right?’

‘ _Pfft_. Yeah, I know my way around. Way to treat your guests, asshole,’ he shouts up at the guy who just laughs and flips him off.

‘Welcome home, Dixon,’ he says before returning to his post. ‘Ezekiel is at his place. I’m sure Merle’s around there as well.’

‘Thank you,’ Beth chirps as she drags Daryl away from the gate. ‘Take me to the king’s castle, Dare.’

‘It’s a house.’

‘Don’t ruin it! It’s a castle. A castle for the king,’ Beth beams. She holds his hand, their fingers entwined as they walk through the big main street of the Kingdom, and looks around with wide eyes. ‘It’s so big. How many people live here? More than at Hilltop?’

‘Same amount, I think,’ Daryl murmurs. ‘Just looks bigger, is all. Hilltop everyone’s piled up in one house, it’s spread out more here. See that’s just a school, over there,’ he points at one of the buildings. ‘And they have, like, - they wash their stuff there. And back there are the stables. They have a ton of horses. Julia works there.’

Beth shoots him a smile. ‘Yeah? Go on, tell me more!’

‘Ok,’ Daryl laughs and he points at the next building. He tells her all about the gym and gardens, about the royal palace and the abandoned art rooms he used to steal equipment from. It feels strange to wander around the place again after such a long time. People stop in the street to call out his name, they wave and beam. Some people he has fought with at the Sanctuary, side by side with blood dripping from their knives and ears ringing from the gunshots in narrow spaces. He’s glad to see them. Something settles in his chest when they smile.

‘You’re famous,’ Beth laughs when one of the children runs up to Daryl to give him a high-five.

‘Stop,’ the Dixon murmurs, ‘yo, kid! Can you do something for me?’

The child nods eagerly.

‘Run along and find Jayla for me, okay? Tell her I’m here.’

‘I know where she is!’ the little boy beams.

Daryl raises his eyebrows when the kid just stares at him. ‘Well, can you go find her then?’

‘Yeah!’

‘Star struck,’ Beth giggles as the boy takes off running towards one of the buildings near the school.

‘He just ain’t right in the head,’ Daryl scoffs. ‘He’ll probably tell her I’m fucking dead or something. Good lord. Through here, these are the royal gardens and Ezekiel’s place is-‘

‘ _Monster_!’

Daryl starts running the second he spots his brother. Merle is leaning against the brickwork, boot scraping over it as he pushes himself away and throws a cigarette onto the concrete. His weathered face breaks out into a grin and his arms are wide open before his little brother even reaches him.

Daryl drops his crossbow in the grass and then jumps up into Merle’s embrace, astonished that he doesn’t have to jump that high anymore. His older brother stumbles a bit but manages to hold him tightly. ‘Until you break your back,’ Daryl laughs into the warm neck. His fingers dig into the leather of Merle’s jacket desperately.

‘That’s right, monster. That’s right,’ Merle says. He rubs a hand over the angel wings. ‘Good to see you, kiddo. You doing okay?’

‘Yeah, everything is fine.’

‘Liar, liar,’ Merle whispers into his ear before he drops him onto the ground again. A soft shove moves him aside. ‘Yo, princes, I don’t get any lovin’ anymore? You just gonna stand there and not give me any? Huh? That how it is now?’

Beth shakes her head fondly but walks over to him. Arms wrapped around his neck, she laughs when he spins her around and kisses the top of her head.

‘Thanks for looking after him,’ Merle says.

‘It was hard,’ Beth flicks her hair over her shoulder, ‘but I managed.’

‘You sure did, doll.’ He laughs when she hugs him again, squeezing him as hard as she can as a punishment for the endearment.

Daryl smirks from the sidelines.

‘Truly, God is good to us on this fine spring day,’ a voice suddenly calls out. Ezekiel comes walking up from behind them, wearing his heavy army boots and long coat. The gray dreadlocks frame his face, eyes sunken deeper than before but still glimmering with joy. ‘Welcome back, Daryl Dixon from Alexandria. You have been so missed by so many. And welcome to you, Beth Greene from Hilltop Colony,’ he ducks his head at the girl. ‘My name is Ezekiel. We’re very happy that you will be staying with us for a while.’

‘Thank you for letting me stay,’ Beth smiles at him, ‘your majesty.’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl shoulders his crossbow again. ‘Good to be back, your majesty.’

‘Your friends have been eagerly anticipating your arrival,’ Ezekiel says with a nod at the doors behind them. ‘You should not let them wait any longer. The hospitality of the Kingdom is yours.’

‘A kindness, right?’ Daryl nods, hand grapping the band of his weapon tightly.

Ezekiel regards him for a moment. ‘Yes, Daryl,’ he says softly. ‘A kindness, as always.’

It’s only when the King walks away that Beth frowns at the youngest Dixon. ‘What do you mean, a kindness?’

‘Nothing,’ Daryl murmurs as he jumps onto the porch of one of the houses. ‘Come one, he said the rest are waiting for us.’

And they are. As soon as the door opens, he recognizes their voices. There’s Michonne who is entertaining Judith with a silly story, their laughter light, dancing in the air and brightening the room. Tara is lounging on the couch with Carl, both complaining about why it’s taking them so long to arrive. Rosita is sitting with Rick at the kitchen table. They’re playing chess.

It strikes Daryl how small their group has become.

They’re spread out now, with Aaron and Maggie being back at Hilltop of course, but still. There are so few of them left. Shane’s not leaning on Rick’s shoulders and messing with his game, and Abraham isn’t sitting with Sasha on the second couch. Glenn isn’t pacing back and forth nervously until Carol grabs his hand to make him stop. Carol isn’t here, at all. Eric doesn’t shoot him a grin from the other side of the room. So many more are missing, Hershel with his soothing words and Will with his throaty laughter, and…

‘Daryl!’ Carl nearly falls flat onto his face as he tries to get up too fast, stumbling over the edge of a rug before reaching the other teenager. There’s a moment of hesitation but Daryl laughs and hugs him, looping on arm around the bony shoulders of his friend, and the other around his waist.

‘Hey, man. Good to see you.’

‘Beth!’ Michonne walks over and draws her into a one-armed hug before bobbing Judith, who shrieks with joy at the sight of the girl. ‘So glad you’re here. We’ve missed you two.’ When Judith crawls over into Beth’s embrace, she turns to Daryl and hugs him, too. Her long fingers stroke his cheek for a moment, dark eyes shining with tears. ‘Hey.’

‘Hey,’ Daryl nods as he looks away. There’s something that feels like shame clawing inside his chest, dripping down his spine. He can’t quite meet her eye. ‘Tara, ‘sup?’ He quickly walks over to her.

She steals his baseball cap but he doesn’t mind. She always gives it back.

Then he turns.

Rick has gotten up. He’s standing near his chair, one hand still resting on the wood. His beard has been trimmed, the curls cut, and he almost looks like the man who’d led them to war at the very start of all of this. But the fingers are white from pressure and the blue eyes are darker than they used to be. He opens his mouth to say something.

‘Hey Rosita,’ Daryl says, walking straight past the cop to give her a big hug, hiding in her embrace as he can feel Rick’s gaze burn onto his back. ‘So glad to see you.’

There’s a flurry of movement. Beth who bounces over to greet Tara, and then pulling Rick into a tight embrace while balancing his daughter on her arm. As she reaches Rosita as well, Daryl plucks Judith out of her arms so he won’t have to look at Rick as he walks back to sit with Carl on the couch. The little girl gives him hundreds of wet kisses and he grins, giving just as many in return while Beth updates Rosita and Tara about what’s going on at Hilltop at the moment.

When Daryl looks up, he sees that Michonne and Rick are standing in a corner, talking quietly to each other. He pretends not to see the tears in Rick’s eyes.

 

 

‘So that’s your grand plan?’ Michonne asks hours later as she walks down the steps of the house. ‘You’re just going to ignore him?’

Jayla has just left, the ticking of her crutches is fading into the background noise and now Daryl is sitting alone under the stars.

‘Sounds like a good plan to me.’

Michonne hums but her disapproval is clear from the way she purses her lips. ‘He could help you. Rick knows all about the place you’re at right now. He was haunted, too. Saw things.’

‘I ain’t seeing things.’

‘He became a farmer. Put his gun away, tried _growing_ something.’

Daryl sighs and rolls his eyes. He jumps down from the porch. ‘Yeah, Maggie made me try that, too. It’s boring.’

‘You’d rather be killing things.’ She gives him a sharp look.

‘And it sounds like you’d rather be starving. Now I’m a freak for being the best goddamn hunter you ever came across? Pfft.’

Michonne shakes her head. ‘You should talk to him. He can help you. Dare, please. He loves you.’

Daryl laughs. He drags a hand over his face. ‘Good lord. Different place, same shit. I don’t want to talk, okay? Not to you, not to fucking _Rick_ , not to anyone! It won’t change anything and it won’t fix anything. It won’t fix _me_.’

Her eyes narrow. ‘Maggie said that’s why you came here. Because you missed Merle and wanted to talk with him. You said it would be easier to talk to him. No?’

The long distance radio.

He bites on the inside of his cheek. ‘Yeah. Ain’t none of your business though.’

‘Why are you lying to me?’

‘Why are you all up in my shit?’

‘ _Because_ you’re lying to me.’

‘ _Because_ you’re all up in my shit.’

She raises her eyebrow at him.

He snorts and looks down at his boots. ‘Whatever. Good talk. See ya later.’ He wanders away from her.

‘The buildings on the North side are off limits,’ Michonne calls after him. ‘And I’m going to need your bow and gun, Dare.’

He makes a throw-away gesture. The Saviors are in that building. Jayla already told him that.

None of that matters.

It’s not why he’s here.

‘Whatever,’ he repeats and drops his weapons into the grass. ‘Here. Have fun with them.’ He pretends to head out and then ducks to the left, slinking past the wall, in the shade of some bushes and trees. His boots are silent when he hops onto the porch of the building across from theirs. The door doesn’t creak when he opens it and slips inside. The hallway is empty, but as he rounds a corner, he sees a guard standing in front of one of the doors.

‘Hey Howin,’ he greets with an easy smile. ‘Good to see you. The King asked for you. He’s in his room.’

The woman looks at him with raised eyebrows, ‘what? Are you sure? I’m supposed to be on guard until midnight.’

‘Yeah, he sent me to relieve you.’

‘When did you arrive? It’s good to see you, Dare.’

‘Couple of hours ago. Best get going,’ he grins. ‘You know how he gets.’

‘Yes. All right. I’ll be back soon.’

Daryl leans against the wall and puts his hands into his pockets. ‘No rush.’ He watches how the woman hurries away. He waits until he hears the door close again before grabbing the keys from a nail next to the door. He opens it.

The cage is still in the middle of the room. There’s an oil lamp burning in one of the corners, far away from the bars. It casts strange shadows onto the walls, causing the jungle he’d painted so long ago to come to life around him. Greens and browns and blacks, vines and flowers crawling over the concrete. He closes the door behind him and slowly walks towards the bars.

Negan is sitting on the floor. Long legs stretched out before him as he picks at his nails. The black hair is no longer slicked back, now falling into his eyes. He’s not wearing any shoes, just a pair of black socks. The leather jacket is gone too. The scarf. He’s wearing a white shirt that looks clean. There’s stubble on his cheeks. He looks up with a frown, but it disappears when he spots the teenager. A predatory grin slides into place as he draws one of his legs up, resting his wrist on his knee. ‘Little prince!’ he grins. ‘Long time, no see. I almost thought you’d forgotten about your old man.’

Daryl walks up to the bars. He shivers. ‘Don’t call me that.’

‘I’ll call you whatever the fuck I want,’ Negan laughs. It sounds hollow in the empty space. ‘Damn,’ his gaze roams over the boy’s body. ‘You look good, but _what the hell_ have you done to my killer jacket? You looked like a bad-ass before and you just had to ruin it, hmm? Adding plaid, of all things. Jesus fucking Christ. Didn’t beat the redneck out of you, now did I?’

‘Shut the hell up.’

‘Nope. You like my new digs?’ he gestures around him. ‘Imagine my shock when they told me you’d painted all of this. You’re a damn artist and you didn’t tell me? Tssk, tssk, kid. You could have decorated the whole sanctuary. Good a place as any, but grim as _fuck_. It could have used a splash of paint.’

‘Just _shut up_!’

Negan gets up. He walks to the bars as well, slow measured steps that remind Daryl of Shiva’s prowling.

‘Stay back!’

‘Or what? You gonna tell Rick? Be my guest,’ Negan laughs. ‘He visits every day. Brings me my food, keeps me updated on everything. How’s the widow? She had the kid yet? Bit of sore spot with Rick, you see, but we are cool, right, little prince?’ His hands curls around the bars.

Daryl takes a step backwards.

Negan’s grin grows wider. ‘You’re not scared, are you? Thought you weren’t scared of nothing.’

‘You’re the one who should be fucking scared.’

‘You don’t have a gun. You don’t have your bow. What?’ Negan laughs, ‘you’re gonna fucking _throw_ a knife at me now?’

Daryl grits his teeth. He doesn’t have a throwing knife on him and Paul’s doesn’t work as well for it. He’d tried once, but stopped when Enid had laughed at his attempt. ‘No, but I got the keys to your cage. Won’t have to throw the knife if I can just stab you in the fucking head.’

‘Be my guest,’ Negan says. His dark eyes shine in the soft light of the oil lamp. ‘Go on, then. What are you waiting for?’

Daryl’s fingers go white on the keys.

Negan leans against the bars. ‘What are you doing here, little prince? Hmm? What do you want?’

‘I want it to hurt until the day you die.’

Negan lifts an eyebrow, ‘what to hurt?’

‘ _Everything_ ,’ Daryl says. ‘I want you to die screaming and I want every second leading up to that end, from now on out, to hurt so that when you die, hell won’t compare to what you’ve been through.’

For a brief moment, the man looks impressed. Then he laughs and whistles sharply. ‘Holy _shit_ , kid.’

‘That’s what I want.’

Negan’s gaze flickers away from him. ‘ _Damn_ ,’ he whispers. ‘You really fucked up with him, Rick You got yourself a tiny sadist right here. I _love_ it!’

‘Rick? What are you-’ Daryl turns around.

Rick is standing in the door opening.

 

 


	5. Getting out

 

* * *

 

 

 

‘ _Out_.’

The single command echoes through the room.

Daryl grits his teeth and glares at Rick, who is still standing in the doorway. Just a shadow in the dim lighting, the boy can’t even make out his features but that doesn’t matter. He can draw him from memory. The stern, blue eyes and pale lips now just a line due to his anger. Rigid shoulders and straight spine but bowed legs. The revolver as a silent threat on his hip. The hatchet on the other.

There’s no point in resisting the command. Even if he’d lunge for Negan now, the man only has to take one quick step back to be out of reach and he’d never get the door open before Rick would be on him. So he rolls his shoulders back and shoots one final glare at the monster behind bars before heading towards the hallway.

‘You let him come here?’ Negan asks as he folds his arms and glowers at Rick. He leans against the bar with one shoulder, perfectly at ease in his prison. ‘Rick,’ he sucks on his teeth and seems to be swallowing his pride for a moment. ‘My people.’

‘They’re safe,’ Rick answers.

‘We made a deal,’ Negan reminds him.

‘And I’ll keep my end. You just keep yours.’

‘Oh, I’m keeping my end,’ Negan assures him with a sly grin. He gestures to the cage. ‘I’m home, but I’m warning you, Rick. You don’t put a leash on your pit bull over there and my people get bit by him?’ He presses his forehead against the bar and stares at the cop. ‘There won’t be a cage strong enough to hold me, and then we’re right back where we started, huh? Me, beating the living shit out of one of you all.’

‘That ain’t how it started,’ Daryl smirks. ‘It started with us murdering your people, and that’s how it’ll end, too.’

 Negan narrows his eyes.

‘ _Out_ , Dare.’ A hand curls around his bicep and he’s thrown towards the door. He doesn’t fight it. There will be bruises on his skin later but he doesn’t care. It’s Rick, of course. The door closes behind them with a bang and Rick locks it. ‘I think we need to talk, Daryl.’

Daryl sniffs and wipes his nose on the back of his hand. ‘Yeah, I ain’t talkin’ to you,’ he growls as he heads back outside, down the long corridor and then onto the porch. It’s late. The night air is cold on his hot cheeks.

‘Hey,’ Rick hisses, trying to keep his voice down since most of the people at the Kingdom are probably already asleep. The lights are out in their building at least and it’s past Judith’s bedtime for sure. He reaches out again, fingertips gripping the boy’s shoulder.

‘Touch me again and I’ll fucking _cut_ you,’ Daryl hisses back.

‘Okay,’ Rick holds his hands up like he’s surrendering. ‘I won’t touch you, I’m sorry, but we _have_ to talk.’

‘I don’t have to do shit. Leave me alone!’

‘Why are you here, Daryl?’ Rick asks. He stops walking and stands on the porch. ‘Maggie told me you missed Merle, that you wanted to spend time with him and I get that, but you’re not doing that. You’re here, with _him_.’

‘Yeah, ‘cause I wanna kill him,’ Daryl snarls. He tries to keep his voice low. His fingernails dig into the palm of his hands.

‘Do you?’ The look on Rick’s face softens marginally. ‘Do you really want that? Because you had your chance and you didn’t take it. I’m not talking about right now,’ he adds when the boy opens his mouth angrily. ‘Before this; you had your chance.’

‘And I took the shot, too. If it weren’t for Paul, I would have ki-‘

‘Before that.’

‘What?’

Rick tilts his head to the side. ‘You had so many opportunities. You slept under his roof. You sat at his table. You told me you played Ping-Pong together, that he let you stay in his private rooms, right? You killed two of his men with a piece of wood, but you couldn’t kill him?’

Daryl works his jaw. ‘They would have killed me.’

‘Right.’ Rick folds his arms in front of his chest.

It takes him a moment before Daryl realizes what the man is trying to say. He feels sick suddenly. It’s something he’d thought about for a long time now. While lying next to Glenn’s grave and staring up at the night sky, while working alongside Maggie in the garden, while sitting with Beth under the shade of some trees. He can’t stop thinking about it.

He should have died at the Sanctuary.

At first he’d tried to justify his own actions; he’d needed to go back to Maggie and Merle, but then he was led to believe they were dead and he still couldn’t do it.

He feels cold now, looking up at Rick. He hates that there are tears welling up in his eyes. ‘What?’ he asks in a shaky voice. ‘I should have done it? That what you’re saying? Right,’ he laughs but it sounds all wrong. Choked-up and too shrill. ‘I know I should have died there, and I’m sorry, but I just-‘

‘What, Dare, _no_! That’s not what I’m saying at all – please just-‘

‘I fucking hate you,’ Daryl whispers. ‘I _hate_ you.’

‘Daryl, please-‘

‘What? You wanted me dead! Back in Alexandria, you wanted me dead!’

‘No, I didn’t, you’re not thinking straight, Dare.’

‘So now it’s on _me_?’

Rick opens his mouth but no words come out. He motions with his hands and then just gives up. His shoulders droop as he hides his face behind one hand. A soft noise of sheer hurt escapes him. The man leans back against the wall and slides down until he sits on the floor.

‘ _Get up_!’ Daryl hisses because we wants something to fight against. He’s so angry and so scared and he wants it all to hurt. He doesn’t want Maggie’s soft touches or Paul’s sympathetic smiles, not Merle’s hugs and Beth’s kisses to his forehead. He wants Rick to get up and fight back. He wants _someone_ to fight back. ‘Get up, I fucking hate you! Get _up_!’

Rick shakes his head.

Daryl kicks against the wall next to the man. ‘This isn’t fair!’ he hisses. ‘You can’t just give up! _This ain’t fair_!’

‘What do you want me to do, Dare?’ Rick asks softly.

‘I don’t know!’ he screams back. The tears roll down his cheeks. ‘I don’t fucking know, you asshole! _I don’t know_!’ He kicks the wall, hits it with his fist and screams so hard that it hurts, everywhere. When his voice fades, the strength leaves his limbs. He sinks to his knees and lets his forehead rest against the wall, cradling his hurt hand.

Rick looks at him for a moment. Then he reaches out, hooking his hand around the boy’s neck and steering his head to his shoulder.

Daryl lets him. He presses his cold nose into Rick’s jacket and doesn’t mind the arm that’s now curling around his shoulder, or the hand that is rubbing comforting circles between his shoulder blades. He’s crying. His fingers shake when he grabs hold of Rick’s white shirt, twisting them into the material as he holds on.

Rick doesn’t say anything. He just sits there and lets him cry on his shoulder.

After a while, Daryl lets himself fall to his side, leaning against the man’s chest. He dries his cheeks with shaking fingers and closes his eyes. The baseball cap is taken from his hair and dropped into his lap. Rick runs his fingers through the clammy hair and holds him closer.

A door opens across from them. Howin steps out with Merle at her side, turning around on the doorstep to shake his hand. Then she crosses the courtyard and steps onto the porch.

Rick nods.

She dips her chin too and disappears back into the hallway to stand guard by the door once more.

The cop watches how Merle lingers on the doorstep. Eyes glinting in the soft light of an oil lamp somewhere in the hall behind him. Then the older Dixon disappears inside again. He leaves the door ajar.

‘You can hate me all you want,’ Rick says softly, ‘but I love you. And you’re wrong; I’m not giving up. I’m _never_ giving up on you.’ He presses a kiss to the dark hair. ‘Let’s get inside. We’ll talk tomorrow, when we’ve both gotten some sleep.’

Daryl gets up and lets himself be steered towards the other building. The lights have been dimmed and most of his family have gone to bed already. Merle is sitting with Tara at the table, contemplating a chess move. From the looks of it, he’s losing badly. He sits up when he sees his little brother.

‘Your bedroom is upstairs, Dare,’ Rick says. His hand nudges the boy’s shoulder to get him to move.

‘I got him.’ Merle gets up. ‘Come here, monster.’ With a practiced move, he scoops the boy up. One arm under his thighs, the other supporting his back, like he used to do when Daryl was only five years old. Daryl slumps against his brother’s broad frame and holds on, hiding his face in the warm neck. He nods when he hears his brother rumbling voice. ‘Let’s get your heavy ass upstairs, hmm? Night, Rick.’

‘Good night Merle. Dare.’

Daryl doesn’t respond. He peeks over his brother’s shoulder to see how the cop sits down on the couch, hands in his hair. His shoulders are relaxed though and after a moment he looks up and smiles at Tara. He gets up again and takes Merle’s place at the table to try and save the man’s game.

Merle heads up the stairs at a slow pace and then kicks the door on the left open. It’s a bedroom. A small single bed in a corner and a chair for his clothes in another. That’s all there is, but it’s plenty. It’s dry and warm, and the bed has a mattress that squeaks when Merle drops his little brother onto it. ‘Sit tight for a sec,’ the man orders and the boy stares at the wall with empty eyes. They light up a little when Merle returns a couple of seconds later with his pack. He digs around in it and pulls some bandages out, as well as a bottle of disinfectant. ‘Gonna sting,’ he murmurs as he starts to clean his brother’s knuckles.

‘Had worse.’

Merle hums softly. ‘Tough as nails. How’s Maggie doing?’

‘Good. Obsessed with her damn garden.’

‘Good,’ Merle echoes and a smile graces his features. ‘Aaron?’

‘Sad.’

‘Of course.’

 Merle glances up. ‘You?’

Daryl chews on his lip as he watches how his brother bandages his hand. ‘Ain’t doin’ so good,’ he whispers.

‘That so, hmm?’

‘Yeah.’

Merle looks up again. ‘What’s wrong with ya then?’

Daryl shrugs. ‘Something is wrong with my brain, man.’

That makes his brother laugh softly. He fastens the bandage and then kneels down to start unlacing Daryl’s boots. ‘That right, huh? Your brain broke? What, you think the earth is flat now or something? You think Santa is real?’ He taps on the boot to make his brother lift it up and then pulls it off. The sock, too. He starts on the next one. ‘Or maybe you think you have a shot with that girl, huh? With them curls? Jala?’

‘Jayla,’ Daryl says with a small frown. He wipes his nose on the back of his uninjured hand. ‘How the hell do you know her?’

‘ _Ooh_ ,’ Merle says in a high voice. _‘Is Dare here? Is Dare all right? Is he coming soon_?’ He smirks and his voice drops again. ‘Wouldn’t shut up about you.’

The teenager snorts and shake his head but his ears still burn. ‘She’s just bein’ nice.’

‘I got to worry about girls being _nice_ to my little brother now, hmm? That it?’ He wiggles his eyebrows.

‘Stop,’ Daryl laughs. ‘We’re friends. She’s good people.’

‘Lot of them around this place,’ Merle nods. He pulls the second boot off, followed by the sock. He throws them under the bed. ‘Okay. Enough about that bullshit. None of that until you’re eighty. Strip and get under the covers.’

‘Pfft.’ Daryl lies back and undoes his belt and buttons. He shimmies out of his jeans. ‘You and dad were always houndin’ me to get my dick wet back at home. And I was twelve! Eleven when you left! Or maybe –‘ he frowns and rubs at his eyes before shrugging out of his vest and unbuttoning his shirt. ‘Think I were eleven when you left, right?’

Merle grabs the jeans and vest and throws them onto the chair in the corner. He starts to take his own boots off, too. ‘Whatever. Will was crazy anyway, and I’m in charge now. None of that until you’re eighty.’

‘Feels like I’m eighty, sometimes.’ Daryl throws his shirt aside and pushes the blankets out of the way so he can slip into the bed. When he falls onto his back, he catches Merle staring at the scars before he looks away again.

‘You ever listen to your own bullshit, boy?’ his brother scoffs. He kicks his boots aside and pulls his jeans down. ‘You’re – what? Sixteen? Prime of your life, could be getting all of the girls and you’re bitching and moaning-‘

‘And boys.’

Merle frowns. ‘What?’

‘I could be getting all of the girls _and_ boys. Remember?’

‘You’re not getting any until you’re eighty! I just said-‘

‘You just said I am in the prime of my life and-‘

‘Don’t tell _me_ what _I_ just said!’

Daryl laughs and pulls the blanket up to his shoulders. ‘Idiot.’

‘Old man,’ Merle bounces back as he slides into the bed as well. ‘Jesus fucking Christ, kid, stop hogging all the damn space. You’re two feet tall but fifty feet wide now or something? Move the fuck over.’

‘It’s a single bed!’

‘You think my eyes don’t work?’

‘Oh my God,’ Daryl laughs. ‘Here,’ he turns to his side so Merle has more room. ‘Now quit bitching.’ Even in the semi-darkness, he can see the profile of his brother’s face. He can see that he’s smiling. It almost makes him wish he hadn’t burned his sketchbook. It’d make a good picture. He reaches out and traces his brother’s profile. His fingertip runs over the man’s forehead, over his nose and chin. ‘You’re really ugly, you know?’

Merle snorts. ‘This is gonna be your face in twenty years, midget.’

‘Nah, weren’t ever a real Dion. I always looked like mom, right?’

Merle turns his head to him. ‘True. Doesn’t make you less of a Dixon though. _She_ were a Dixon, through and through. Everyone told her not to take the name – e _veryone_ \- but she wore it proudly.’ He reaches out and cups his brother’s cheek. ‘Wore it right.’

‘You remember her?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Wish I did, too.’

‘I know, monster,’ Merle whispers as he strokes his cheek. ‘Imagine if she were here, huh? And you had to tell her you found Jesus and want to suck his cock.’

‘Fuck you!’ Daryl groans as he shoves his big brother’s shoulder and tries to push him out of bed with his feet.

Merle barks out a laugh. ‘Your fuckin’ face. Okay, okay,’ he pushes Daryl’s knees down again to stop his kicking. ‘Settle down now. Get some sleep.’ He pulls him close and lets his chin come to rest on the top of his brother’s head. ‘The earth is round and Santa is some bullshit. And Jayla will never date your scrawny ass.’

Daryl punches him in the stomach.

‘There,’ Merle grins as he kisses his hair. ‘Fixed your brain.’

 

 

The first thing he notices when he wakes up is that he’s alone. The bed and room is empty, Merle’s stuff has vanished and the man himself is gone, too. Daryl sits up and stretches. The muscles in his back burn after working so many hours in Maggie’s new gardens. He lets himself fall back onto the matrass and stares at the ceiling.

The second thing he notices is that he’s not tired anymore. He smiles for a second as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. Maybe Merle really did fix his brain, but he’d probably just been too tired to have a nightmare. The bandage scratches over his skin. He’d almost forgotten about the wounds on his knuckles. He sits up again and gets out of bed. He puts his jeans back on, socks and boots, but throws the shirt over his shoulder. The rest of the house is quiet. His boots make a lot of noise when he walks into the hallway.

The door of the room next to his is open. He peeks inside and sees a balcony on the other side. This bedroom is much nicer. It has a big bed and large French doors that lead to the balcony. White see-through curtains flow in the soft breeze. He passes the bed and smiles when he spots big puzzle pieces among the blankets.

Judith. So probably Rick and Michonne’s room. Possibly Carl’s.

It’s sunny outside but not too hot. It’s still early. From here, he can see a part of the main street, along with the communal garden and the training area for the archers. A couple of people are already working in the greenery, plucking weeds out of the ground and carrying buckets of water. A couple of younger kids seem to follow a lady around as she breezes through the garden and points at various plants.

He recognizes Morgan, who is stretching near the gazebo. Soon, his lessons will start. Daryl remembers having to get up at the crack of dawn to study martial arts with Benjamin. The other boy had always been better at the moves but Daryl fought dirty. Combining everything he knew from fighting in his own living room, to Shane’s drills, Rick’s sessions and Merle’s lessons. He’d never gotten good with the Bo himself, but he’d gotten pretty good at dodging one.

He thinks about the first time he’d come here, to the Kingdom. So eager to fight after being struck down, the numbing sense of abandonment he’d felt when Rick had left him behind. The long talks with Ezekiel, who’d thought that Rick had done him a kindness by giving him time to heal.

And it had been.

When he’d returned to Alexandria, he’d been calmer but not less determined. Benjamin had died at the hands of a Savior, the final push Ezekiel had needed to join the fight, and for Daryl to rejoin it. Back then it had been so clear; fight until it’s over. No matter the cost. No matter how long it would take. Just _fight_ until it’s over.

But when is it over?

The Saviors surrendered. Negan is captured.

It’s not enough for him but Rick has laid down his arms. Maggie, too, so maybe it’s over for them. Michonne keeps saying that it is but that doesn’t make sense. How does something like this end? How can they just _decide_ that people who tried to kill them three weeks ago are now their allies?

They’d taken people in from Woodbury, of course, but most of the soldiers had died at the hands of their own leader. They had taken in women and children, the elderly and just a couple of men. Just the people who hadn’t been able to go to war.

Most of the Saviors are still alive.

Back at the prison, he hadn’t worried about it much. He’d left that to Shane and Rick.

Daryl frowns when he spots the cop at the square. Judith is toddling beside him, holding onto two of his fingers. Her blonde curls seem almost white in the sunshine, a bright halo around her head. She’s wearing a dress and tiny sneakers. Daryl smiles at the sight of her.

A man greets Rick. The cop straightens up and his fingers slip out of Judith’s grasp while they talk. The little girl seizes the opportunity and takes off. Hesitant steps at first; she keeps glancing over her shoulder whether her dad notices that she’s trying to sneak off, but then she’s bounding into the garden, streaking through the tall grass and jumping onto the car tires, balancing on them with her arms spread out.

Daryl gnaws on his fingernail. He watches her nervously. It’s early but there are other people around. He doesn’t know who they are.

A man watering plants talks to Judith and Daryl feels sick. The man reaches into his bucket and the teenager almost screams his sister’s name, but the guy just splashes some water at the little girl to make her laugh and dart away again.

Rick shakes the man’s hand and whistles sharply.

It’s the whistle Daryl had taught him years ago. The one they use while they’re hunting. The one that means; _come back_.

Judith freezes in her tracks. Then turns around and races back to her father, almost bumping into his leg before hugging it tightly. Rick beams down at her. He holds out his hand again. Together, they continue their walk, completely at ease.

Daryl lets his finger slide off his lower lip as he watches them disappear around a corner. He feels stupid. Of course Rick wouldn’t lose sight of Judith unless there was no way that the girl could either be in danger, or get into trouble. He feels safe enough here to let her wander out of his sight for a moment.

‘Good morning, bello durmiente.’

Daryl looks over his shoulder to see that Rosita is leaning against the doorpost. She’s holding a gun, checking the chamber before stashing it in the holster on her thigh.

‘What did you just call me?’

‘Sleeping beauty.’

He scrunches up his nose. ‘Say it again?’

She does.

He repeats it.

She corrects him.

The second time, he gets it right. ‘Thanks,’ he says as he turns back to the square and mouths the words again to try and remember them. ‘Morning.’

‘I didn’t come here just to call you pretty, asshole,’ Rosita bangs on the door with her fist. ‘Come on. I’ve put some clothes on your bed for you. What?’ her eyebrows shoot up, ‘you want to walk around on those chicken legs for the rest of your life? Come on. Get changed and meet me downstairs. _Apúrate_!’

‘What?’

‘ _Hurry_!’

 

 

An hour later, he’s drenched in sweat and ecstatic that he can see the building where they’re staying at. His legs are burning from the exercises Rosita made him do and then the long miles they ran through the Kingdom, weaving between the houses before looping around the entire community. The sun is out in full force now. It’s unbearably hot, though Rosita doesn’t seem bothered. After about five miles, Daryl had given up on trying to keep the conversation going, too focused on not collapsing in a sweaty heap by the side of the road, but Rosita is still narrating their run. There’s sweat running down her neck of course, shirt discolored from it, but she’s telling him about Alexandria’s rebuilding. It’s going to take a long time and a lot of work, but they’ve found out that some buildings had been saved by Negan. Rick’s house for example and a couple more at the back of the community. The clean-up crew will start tomorrow with breaking down everything that can’t be saved.

‘Are – yo – are you goin’- _goddamn_.’

‘Almost there,’ Rosita reminds him. ‘Back straight, breathe through your nose, come on. You’re doing great. And yes, to your well-articulated question,’ she gives him a smug look because she can still form normal sentences and stuff in complicated words as well. ‘I’ll head over there tomorrow.’

‘Hate you,’ Daryl pants. ‘Why?’ He gestures to himself as they run into the courtyard. He collapses onto the patch of grass in front of their porch immediately. Just crashed to the earth. ‘Why this? Why- runnin’. Ain’t no damn horse.’

Rosita takes a deep breath. ‘You ain’t no damn horse? That’s your excuse for being lazy? At least it’s original, I mean…’

Daryl swats at her as he tries to catch his breath. ‘Hate.’

‘I know, baby boo,’ she coos and then snaps her fingers. ‘Get up and stretch it out or you’ll be cursing up a storm tomorrow. Up. _Up_!’

With a groan, he gets up. The stretching actually feels kind of good. His muscles are burning, as is every inch of his skin, but he’s feeling better once his breathing settles and his heartrate slows down again. Just when he finishes the last exercise Rosita shows him, Beth comes out of the building.

‘First day of work!’ she beams. She hands both Rosita and Daryl a bottle of water. ‘Wish me luck.’

‘Good luck,’ Rosita says a she squeezes the girl’s shoulder before heading back inside. ‘Same time tomorrow, Dare. We’re getting this run in before I leave, got it? Every single morning.’

‘Can’t fucking wait!’ He yells after her and then fidgets with his water bottle. ‘Want me to walk you to the clinic? Guess that’s where you’re heading right? All them doctors are there, so…’

‘Yeah. Tara kind of told me where it was, but it’d be great if you could walk me. First day and all,’ she grins.

‘If you’re gonna complain I stink again, I’m gonna leave your ass, got it? ‘cause, God, Rosita almost murdered me. Turn left,’ he gestures to the side street and falls into step beside her.

‘It’s what we used to do with some of the wilder horses at the farm. It’s what you do with Khamsin, too. Burn off some energy.’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl takes his shirt off and sticks it between the waistband of his sweatpants and his hip. It’s drenched and felt disgusting on his skin. ‘She won’t listen otherwise.’

Beth bites back a grin.

‘What – _I_ listen! Don’t you start, I’m warning ya.’

‘Whatever you say, Dare,’ the girl smirks. ‘Whatever you say.’

They walk side by side through the streets, talking about Beth’s upcoming day and the Kingdom. Daryl tells her little tidbits about the buildings they pass, but he grows silent when he starts to recognize different faces.

‘It’s okay,’ Beth says. She reaches out and takes his hand. ‘Keep talking. Tell me more about the stables. Do you think Julia will let me ride one of the horses?’

‘Y – yeah. Guess, I – I mean,’ Daryl squeezes her hand. ‘Yeah.’

Saviors.

There are Saviors walking around the Kingdom. Freely. A couple of them are sitting in front of the place where most of the laundry is done. Men and women with hands wrinkled due to the water, or with sweat on their brows from carrying the heavy buckets. Others head towards the outer fields with shovels on their shoulders while their friend pushes a wheelbarrow. Two men are arguing near the garage, motor oil on their hands and jeans.

Children are running around, too. One of them carries a Bo. Another yells something about being late for class and they disappear into a cloud of dust.

‘Which horse could I ride, do you think?’

Daryl frowns. He can feel how Beth rubs soothing circles into the back of his hand. ‘Any. All. I don’t know. You’re a better rider than me, so… Whichever you like, I think.’

‘It’s fine, dare. They’re just going about their day. They work here now.’

They’re looking at him though. Wary but with resignation in their eyes. Some even open their mouths to say something but seem to change their minds at the last second. They slump back onto their porches, upturned buckets and chairs, averting their gazes as soon as he meets their eye.

‘Why ain’t they locked up? Everyone said they’d be locked up,’ Daryl hisses.

‘They’re just people, Dare. They’re a part of this community now.’

‘They’re Saviors!’

‘Not anymore.’

They reach the clinic. Beth looks at him and takes a deep breath. ‘You’re going to walk home the exact same way. And it’s going to be fine. Drink your water, go get breakfast. You don’t have to look at them, you don’t have to talk to them. Just go home. Let them mind their business, and you mind yours.’

He sets his jaw.

‘Promise me.’

‘Yeah I’ll head back, drink my damn water. Fine. Whatever.’

‘You’ll head back the way we came. Don’t avoid them.’

He grits his teeth. ‘Whatever. Yeah. Promise,’ he adds when Beth pouts at him.

Now she smiles and drags him close for a quick hug. ‘Wish me luck now, you didn’t before.’

‘Good luck,’ he smiles.

She boops his nose before heading in.

 

 

The plastic of his water bottle crinkles. He’s holding it too tightly but can’t let go. Every eight steps, he takes a tiny sip. It’s enough to keep him focused on his own walk home rather than the Saviors who seem to surround him now. He recognizes people from the Kingdom, too, of course, but there are just so many Saviors. Or maybe they just scare him more.

They know him. Every single of them knows exactly who he is and what he’s done.

He stares at his own feet. One step. Two. Three. Four. Five.

‘Dare?’

The tentative sound causes him to look up despite everything. An automated response to his name that he now curses.

Frankie is standing to his right. He hardly recognizes her. The red hair isn’t flowing past her shoulders but is locked in a tight braid instead. The short black dress is gone. She’s wearing loose-fitting jeans and a simple green shirt. Even from this distance, he can see that there’s dirt under her fingernails and on her arms. She’s probably been working in the gardens earlier this morning while he was on his run.

She come closer. Slow, measured steps, as if she’s unsure of how he’ll react.

‘That’s enough,’ he says when he can see tears shimmering in her eyes. ‘Back up one step.’

She takes a step back. ‘I – oh my God. I didn’t think I’d see you again.’

‘Yeah,’ he wrings his hands on the water bottle. ‘Same.’

‘Maggie said you weren’t hurt? We were so worried about you.’

‘No.’

She nods and gives him a watery smile. ‘Good. That’s good. I’m so glad.’

‘Yeah,’ he takes a slow step towards his house. ‘I don’t – I gotta go.’

‘Okay. Yes, of course,’ she wipes a tear from her cheek. ‘I just wanted to say…. Thank you. I know what he has done is terrible, and I didn’t think you’d… but thank you for sparing him.’

Daryl frowns. ‘What?’

‘It’s stupid,’ Frankie says with a bitter laugh. She looks away. ‘But he was my husband. So thank you for having mercy on him. I know it wasn’t easy, but you made the right choice. He _can_ change. He will.’

‘I – I gotta’, Daryl stumbles over his own feet. ‘I got to go.’ He turns on his heels and runs back to the house.

 

 

‘What the hell did you tell them?’

Rick is sitting at the kitchen table. The surface is covered by blueprints of buildings. Alexandria, maybe. Or examples of what they’re going to build there next. The man looks up.

Daryl stalks over to the table. With one great sweep he wipes all the plans onto the floor. Then he grabs one of the chairs and smacks it down across from Rick. He sits down. ‘You wanted to fucking talk? Let’s do it.’

 

 

 


	6. Not done yet

 

* * *

 

 

 

Rick doesn’t seem to be surprised by the sudden appearance of the angry teenager, or his demand to have their conversation now. The blue eyes don’t narrow due to confusion or irritation, nor does he cock his head to the side in a silent challenge. He merely shifts back in his chair, his body language open and inviting. It strikes Daryl for a moment just how easy it is to read Rick’s body language. Easier than any book he has tried to decipher. He knows exactly what it means when those blue eyes narrow, or when only one corner of his mouth turns up in that wry smile of his. If the man would snap his fingers now, Daryl would slide over the table to land at his right hand side with his knife drawn.

‘What would you like to talk about, Dare?’ Rick asks calmly.

Nothing. The anger is slowly ebbing away now that he has time to think and it leaves him feeling vulnerable. He’s not good with words, can’t ever find the right ones. He’s better with his fists. He’s better in explosive situations where he can rely on his instinct and his training. Here, at a dinner table facing the other man, his instincts tell him to cut and run.

 _Don’t run_ , Paul keeps telling him. Not when he wanted to die of embarrassment after kissing the man, not when he couldn’t face Maggie after his stay at the sanctuary, and not now: when the war is over and he feels useless and wrong. He had promised Paul he wouldn’t. So he digs his fingernails into the palm of his hand and meets Rick’s eye.

‘What did you tell everyone about that night?’

‘Negan fled. We had him cornered but he managed to get away during the chaos of the final fight. You followed him into the woods and shot him in the leg. It was a perfect shot; right through his calf. He couldn’t run anymore. You reloaded your bow.’ Rick drums his fingers on the table top. ‘You had him at your mercy. He didn’t beg but you still held your shot. Held it until Carl and Paul reached you. Then you let Paul tie him up. And we took him away.’

‘Why tell them that? That ain’t how it went down. Frankie thinks I _spared_ him. I would have fucking done it if it weren’t for Paul messin’ up my shot!’

‘But you don’t hate Jesus for that, right?’

Daryl presses his lips into a thin line.

‘No,’ Rick says. ‘But you hate me.’

‘I’ve always hated you,’ Daryl snaps and he’s almost sorry when he sees the hurt flicker over Rick’s face. ‘That don’t matter now. Why are you selling bullshit?’

Rick looks at his fingers. His thumb rubs over the spot where his wedding band used to be. ‘I didn’t think Alexandria was real when we first met Aaron. It was just another trick. I was so sure of it,’ his fingers relax again as he looks up at the teenager across from him. ‘If it hadn’t been for Michonne reminding me what we were looking for, what we were fighting for…’ he shakes his head. ‘A place for Judith and Carl to grow up in. A place for _you_. We found Alexandria. Then Hilltop found us, Oceanside, the Kingdom – the new world. I saw it. There were Wolves and walkers, we had to deal with the Saviors – but I saw it. I _believed_. I clung to that belief; a _safe_ place.’ He looks away for a second and shifts in his seat. ‘I thought – if we just fight hard enough – long enough, if we’d just _win_ , it’d be okay.’ He meets Daryl’s gaze again. ‘I thought winning would be enough.’

‘It was.’

Rick scoffs. ‘Places get overrun. Walls come down and fences never hold. And even if they do; someone will climb them. No. It’s not about the place. We weren’t fighting for that anymore. We were fighting for us – for each other. To stay alive. To be free. That’s what we fought for.’ The cop pinches the bridge of his nose for a second. His hand shakes. ‘And I made a promise. Years ago, I promised my brother I’d take care of his kid. If anything would happen to him, I’d take care of him and he promised me the same thing. And you still wear it.’ He reaches out and plucks the silver twenty-two from Daryl’s scarred chest. It’s warm to his touch. ‘It’s mocking me now,’ Rick says. ‘It’s _mocking_ me and the promise I made.’

Daryl leans back in his chair. The pendant slides out of Rick’s grasp.

‘There’s got to be something left,’ Rick says softly. ‘That’s what Michonne said. Jesus. Morgan. Ezekiel. But what if that was all there is now; my brother’s boy – just – filled with this wrath, murdering –‘

‘Ain’t _murder_ if it’s him,’ Daryl cuts in. ‘It’s… It’s…’

‘What?’ Rick asks. ‘Vengeance? You’d call it justice?’ he shakes his head. ‘Eye for an eye and there will be nothing left of who you were.’

‘He already took all that. Way before the end.’

‘Did he? Because you escaped that hell hole, and you came home to Hilltop, and you survived. He’d taken _everything_ from you and you survived, and everyone saw it. The people at Hilltop. These people here. They saw how broken you were when you arrived, but they saw you recover, too. You became one of them. Every day since we came here, people have been asking after you. They care about you.’ Rick gives him a weak smile. ‘They tell me how you would draw the children during dinner, how they’d pose with big grins and you’d still draw them with silly faces.’

Daryl huffs to suppress his own smile. ‘You got a point, or we just chattin’?’

‘You survived all of that,’ Rick says as he leans forward, ‘and he _didn’t_ break you. You were still sweet and kind.’ His grin widens. ‘And more than a little stubborn. You’re _Daryl Dixon_ , and they love you.’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl murmurs as he kicks his boot against the leg of his chair. He gnaws on the nail of his thumb. ‘So?’

‘People look at you and they see the future of this world. You, Carl and Enid. Every kid that grows up now. These people need to know that they can pull through, that there is a future and that it can be good. That’s why I told them that you showed him mercy. Because they have to believe in something, and right now; they’re looking at _us_. And if we don’t show them the way?’ Rick shakes his head. ‘There won’t _be_ a new world.’

‘Nobody is lookin’ at me for nothing.’

‘I am.’

Daryl scoffs and looks away. ‘Don’t matter anyway. It’s not true. None of what you’re sayin’ makes sense because I _didn’t_ want to spare his life. I want him dead.’

‘I don’t think you do, and that’s okay,’ Rick says. ‘What I said before? About you not killing him when you had the chance? I’m not – I’m not blaming you, or throwing it in your face. I’m _glad_ you didn’t.’

Daryl glances at the staircase.

‘There’s nobody else home,’ Rick assures him.

‘’s gonna sound fucked up,’ Daryl murmurs as he sinks lower in his chair.

‘I don’t care. Whatever you have to say, I want to hear it.’

Daryl sighs and rubs at his right eyebrow. ‘Okay, but you can’t tell anyone else. Not Merle, and not Maggie neither.’

‘Your secrets will be safe with me.’

‘This ain’t no joke!’ Daryl warns, frowning now.

‘I’m not joking. This will stay between you and me, like everything else you’ve told me.’

The teenager nods. ‘’kay. So… I tried pretending at first, when I got to the Sanctuary, right? So they gave me a room and shit, and I killed two of his guys. He had this stupid rule about makin’ him mad. The first time was free of charge, but I’d be paying for the second. So I figured, ya know… could kill one for free, pay for the next.’

Rick sets his jaw and nods.

‘He wanted me alive, so I thought I could take it. I’m kinda used to that kind of stuff anyway,’ he rubs at the scar that runs from his collarbone to his ribs. ‘But everyone was Negan, right? So they all got a turn with making me pay.’

‘His men beat you up.’

‘Yeah. Showed me good,’ Daryl nods. ‘They locked me in that cell afterwards. Took my clothes, gave me dog food to eat – that goddamn song to listen to. They wouldn’t let me sleep. Every time it would start again.’ He stomps his boot on the floor and claps his hands together in that too familiar rhythm. The hair on his arms rises. ‘I was so tired after a couple of days. Like – _tired_. Fucking hungry too. That wasn’t the worst part though. I had these dreams. When I did sleep for a second I would have these dreams about my dad and Shane, and Glenn, too.’

Rick nods his understanding.

‘Shane would always try to help me, say that I had to be smart - had to be careful. Stuff like that. My dad would just sneer, ya know. He told me Dixon’s don’t kneel or break. But I did. In the end, I was just too tired, too weak, just – I couldn’t hold out anymore. I wanted it to be over,’ he runs his nails over his jeans, hard enough to leave red marks on his skin. ‘The Saviors hated my guts for killing their men, and it felt like everyone was out to get me there…. And he was…’ He works his jaw as tears well in his eyes. ‘Strong. I dunno. Strong enough to keep me safe while I was there.’

‘Of course,’ Rick says softly. ‘Everyone understands why you did it.’

‘But it was real,’ Daryl counters. ‘I wasn’t pretending to be his. I _was_. And it felt _good_. It was like being back home, with Merle and his gang who would watch my back when every rich kid in town would have loved to fuck me over.’

‘Of course it was real, Daryl,’ Rick whispers. ‘He made it seem like he was your only friend in the whole world. You were cut off from us, from your family. You were alone and scared. Of course you would cling to him. Nobody blames you for that. You survived. That’s all that matters.’

‘Glenn wouldn’t talk to me.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Glenn wouldn’t talk to me,’ Daryl repeats. ‘In my dreams, he wouldn’t say anything. And you don’t have to tell me that that wasn’t real. I know that, but… Maybe, if I did it – if I killed him after all, I … I’d make it right.’ A tear spills onto his cheek. ‘Somehow.’

Rick sighs and gets up. He sits down on the edge of the table, close to the teenager.

‘Glenn wouldn’t be proud of you for killing anyone. Not even Negan,’ Rick says. ‘Remember what happened after Gareth?’

‘He beat your ass.’

Rick laughs softly. ‘Yeah. He beat my ass for handing you that machete. And he was right to do it. That was… so stupid of me. But if that’s the reason why you want him dead – then it’s never going to end for you. He wouldn’t be proud of that, Daryl.’

The teenager wipes his tears away and works his jaw. ‘I know. I just don’t know what else I can do.’

‘To do what?’ the cop asks. ‘Make Glenn proud of you? Because I know he was. Everyone knows he was so proud of you.’

‘No… I – I know he was, before…. But… you were right; I didn’t want to kill Negan at the Sanctuary.’ He runs his nails over his forearm now, almost drawing blood. ‘And it’s fucked up, but… I didn’t want him dead.’ Another tear burns on his skin. ‘And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’

‘Why are you sorry?’

‘Because I had the chance and I didn’t fucking take it! And now Carol’s dead! And Eric fucking burned, and…’

Rick makes a soft shushing sound as he reaches out to pull the teenager close. ‘None of that is your fault. Negan…. Negan is the kind of guy that gets into your head. He knows people, he’s good at reading them. He can see what makes you tick in a second and he used that against you.’

Daryl nods against the man’s shoulder.

‘You’d just lost your…. Someone who was like a father to you, and he tried to take that place because you needed someone like that. Someone to look up to, someone who would have your back no matter what. That’s what you want, more than anything; blood. And you’re right; he’s big and strong. He’s charming when he wants to be, but don’t make him angry. Remind you of someone?’

Daryl frowns.

Rick leans back. ‘Will. He was exactly the same. Push and pull. He was blood but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t show you good, right?’

‘He loved me.’

‘I think Negan cares a lot about you, too.’

‘Fuck that! That ain’t true – he’s – _that ain’t true_!’

‘Okay,’ Rick holds up a hand. ‘Okay.’ He sighs and looks at his watch. ‘The rest will be back soon. Come on. Grab your bow.’

Daryl frowns as he watches how Rick checks his gun and knife. ‘Why?’

‘Because we’re not done talking yet.’

 

 

Together, they walk down the road. The gate closes behind them but Rick doesn’t seem bothered. It’s a nice day. The sun is high in the sky. There’s a cool breeze rushing through the trees alongside them. Daryl is holding onto the band of his crossbow. His fingers are almost white from the pressure. He glances over his shoulder.

One of the guards raises his hand and then disappears.

Rick walks on. His hands in the pockets of his brown jacket and blue eyes sharp but warm as he monitors the tree line.

There aren’t any walkers around. There are bodies rotting in the bushes though, gnawed-on legs sticking out, decomposing arms and skulls with empty eye-sockets. He’s gotten used to the smell throughout the years but the sight sometimes still bothers him. He wonders whether those people died early on, years ago, or if they’d fought a fight much like theirs but lost.

‘You lead the way,’ Rick says as he aims a kick at a small rock on the road.

‘Where are we going?’

‘Nowhere in particular. I thought it’d be nice to be outside of those walls for a while,’ he looks around with a soft smile on his face. ‘And there’s nobody around. Your secrets are still safe with me.’

‘Right.’ Daryl glances over his shoulder again. They’re out of sight from the wall. It makes him a little nervous. ‘Let’s just get off the open road first.’ He quickly ducks into the woods, feeling better as soon as his fingertips ghost over the bark of the trees.

Rick follows him. He still looks out of place here. Especially now; clean shaven and without a speck of blood on his skin or clothes, but it’s been a long time since he used to stumble over tree roots. His gaze even skirts over the ground in search for trails of walkers, people and game.

‘So now what?’

The cop shrugs.

‘We just going to walk around like walker-bait?’

‘Yup.’

‘Sounds kinda dumb.’

‘We've done dumber stuff together. You got a place in mind?’

‘Yeah.’ Daryl turns left sharply and then weaves through the dense forest. It doesn’t take them very long for them to cut through it. On the other side, there’s a shopping center which has been looted years ago, and houses that have been empty for even longer. Most were probably boarded up before the outbreak. There are signs with _foreclosure_ on the doors. The angry red ink has faded into a dull pink. At the end of the street, there’s a single shop still in decent enough shape. The windows are gone and the glass has blown into the store but the place hasn’t been destroyed in search for loot. The till is gone. That’s the only sign that there was ever anyone here after the outbreak.

‘When did you find this?’

‘When you left my ass here the first time,’ Daryl says as he jumps into the shop via the window, not bothering to actually try the door. It amuses him when Rick follows suit. He looks around. ‘Kinda cool, right?’

‘ _Very_ cool.’

‘Ya nerd,’ Daryl laughs. He walks down the aisle and then falls into one of the chairs.

It’s a tattoo shop. The floors are bare concrete but the walls are blood-red. Most of the color is covered up by various prints and drawings however. Sketches for tattoos and random images which could serve as inspiration. He recognizes the New York skyline and a tiger done in a traditional style. There’s a skull with its mouth open, flowers pour over the rotting teeth. There are hearts with banners around them. _Mom_ and _dad_ in different fonts. There’s a Celtic cross and tribal symbols, a portrait of a young child’s face that’s so realistic that he’d thought it was a photo at first.

Rick slowly walks around the shop. He stares at the many pictures on the walls. ‘You wanted to be a tattoo artist when you grew up.’

‘Yeah.’ Daryl gnaws on the nail of his thumb. ‘Was gonna be the best one. Get my own shop and people would come from all over the world to get my ink. The place in my town was just like this one. Kinda small, right? Mine was gonna be big.’

Rick throws him a smile.

‘For real!’

‘Yeah. No. I believe you.’

‘I saw it on TV. One of those big shops? I saw one on TV. Mine was going to be like that.’

‘I remember how you would draw on Carl’s back during that last party at Alexandria. It was stunning. Flowers, right?’ the man asks as he leans closer to the portrait of the young child. Maybe he’s trying to figure out whether it’s a picture too. ‘Tattoo artists have a signature, right? One thing they’re really good at. Is that yours? Flowers?’

‘I guess.’ He always thinks it sounds a bit lame that he likes to draw flowers and plants so much. ‘My dad didn’t really like that though so he made me practice other stuff as well. I can do the crosses and tribal stuff, too, but I’m not that good at faces.’

‘You used to practice them a lot on the road.’

Daryl frowns. ‘It takes a long time to learn, okay?’

Rick huffs out a breath of laughter. ‘That wasn’t meant as an attack, Dare. I’ve just seen you practice them a lot.’

The teenager nods. ‘The shading is hard to do. I always mess it up in the end.’

‘Like you said,’ Rick murmurs as he falls into the chair beside Daryl’s, ‘it takes a long time to learn.’ The seating is made of black leather and the chair is almost reclined completely. It takes the man a while to get comfortable. ‘It’s almost like I’m back on my therapist’s couch,’ he says as he stretches out on it.

Daryl looks at him.

‘Marriage counseling. Apparently I had trouble communicating.’

‘Should see you now,’ Daryl smirks. ‘You never shut the hell up.’

The skin around Rick’s eyes wrinkles as he laughs. ‘Yeah. Do you still draw? I haven’t seen you with your notepad much.’

‘You haven’t seen _me_ much,’ the teenager points out. He hesitates for a second. ‘I burned the one I had.’

‘Why?’

‘Was full of dead people,’ Daryl murmurs as he draws one leg up so he can rest his wrist on his knee. He looks at the paintings on the wall. A couple of them have started to fade due to the exposure to direct sunlight but the ones in the shadows are still as vivid as the day they were drawn. Some are black and white, but others have color. He’s kind of jealous of that skill, too. He’s never had good equipment or even just colored pencils outside of school. He mostly drew with ballpoint pens and gray pencils he found around the house, or stole from the bar Merle used to drink at.

Maybe he could find some now, he thinks.

‘That’s a shame,’ Rick comments. ‘It’d be nice to have their portraits. Sometimes you forget little things.’

‘Whatever.’ Daryl knows he’s right. It starts with little things, like whether the scar on Shane’s face was on the left or right side of his nose, but time consumes everyone’s memory in the end. He can’t remember what his mom looked like. Not really. He remembers her from pictures, always remembers her frozen in time, but the details are fuzzy and he _thinks_ they had the same eye color.

‘So you wanted to be a tattoo artist before all this,’ Rick says. ‘What about now? What do you want to be?’

‘Left alone.’

Rick snorts. ‘That’s not true.’

‘No,’ Daryl smirks as he looks away. ‘It ain’t. I dunno. Guess I’ll follow Merle around some.’

‘Merle’s going to help with Alexandria’s rebuilding. We have enough people.’

Daryl frowns. ‘One more set of hands won’t hurt.’

‘We have enough.’

The teenager sits up. ‘So now you don’t want me in your fucking town? Is that it? Bet Carl’s helping, huh? Bet everyone is helping, but you’re kicking _me_ out?’

Rick sighs and shoots a glare his way. ‘Will you stop acting like everything I do is with the intention to hurt you, or attack you, or to kick you to the curb? Maybe I just want you to start making your own choices. Where you’re going to live, what you’re going to do, who you’ll be from now on. Because everyone has been making these choices for you and I… I’m just curious about what _you_ would like to do.’

‘It ain’t about what I _want_. Shit just needs to get done.’

‘We have enough people,’ Rick repeats. ‘The work will get done without you.’

Daryl scoffs. ‘I want to sit on my ass all day and get a tan.’

‘Yeah, good luck with that,’ the cop snaps as he gets up and stalks towards the window.

The teenager regrets his outburst immediately. ‘I wanted to be a messenger! Or a scout like Aaron!’ Daryl gets up quickly because he doesn’t want the man to leave. He’s breathing harder due to the sudden action, one hand curling around the band of his crossbow nervously. He watches how Rick turns around to look at him. ‘That’s what I wanted to be after I stayed at the Kingdom the first time. I think – I think I – you know…’ he straightens his spine and meets Rick’s eye. ‘I think I’d be good at it.’

‘I think so too.’

‘But I want to stay with Maggie.’

‘All right.’

Daryl works his jaw for a second. ‘They said… People said your house didn’t burn.’

‘That’s right,’ Rick answers. ‘Negan saved it.’

‘Yeah. So – At Alexandria, I was staying – like – ‘ he rubs his knuckles over his cheek and then bites the bullet. ‘Can I still keep my room in your house? Even if I live at hilltop?’

A sad smile softens Rick’s features. ‘Of course.’

‘Good,’ he wipes his nose on the back of his hand. ‘’cause Carl would be bored as fuck without me around to stir up trouble.’

‘You almost make me change my mind,’ Rick warns with a laugh. ‘Double trouble back under my roof. God help us all.’

‘You love it.’

‘I do. Thank you for showing me this place. You’re right; it’s cool.’ The man hops out of the shop via the window and waits until the teenager lands beside him with a soft thud before moving on. ‘We were talking about Glenn earlier, about how he wouldn’t be proud of you killing Negan? I think that would have made him really happy; you wanting to be a scout and messenger.’

‘You think so?’

‘I really do. He was always proud of you, of course. But I think that would have made him happy.’

Daryl’s ears burn. ‘Cool,’ he mutters while ducking his head.

Rick laughs. ‘Teenager.’

‘Old man,’ the boy shoots back with a shy grin, swatting at the man’s elbow playfully.

Rick hesitates for a moment. ‘I know you won’t like hearing this, but… I don’t think Negan saved the house because it’s mine. He really is fond of you.’

‘You’re right; I don’t like hearin’ that shit ‘cause it ain’t true. Shut up about it.’

‘What he did? We won’t ever forget it but…’

Daryl spits on the concrete, ‘and we won’t forgive it neither. Let’s go back.’

Rick looks at the horizon. The sun is getting low. ‘Lead the way.’

 

 

They don’t talk as they make their way back to the Kingdom. Daryl is lost in thought and Rick is one step behind him. The boy doesn’t doubt that Rick knows the way but he’s better at cutting through the forest and then the building blocks until they end up on that long stretch of road before the gates. Their footsteps echo in the silence of the aftermath.

Daryl thinks about Glenn. He remembers that night in the church, how the Korean had worked Rick to the floor, fists hitting him anywhere he could while screaming that he’d been just a kid. How he’d stared up at the ceiling, laughing his head off while the blood of his enemy was cooling on his skin.

And what came after. The numbness. The anger.

It hadn’t helped then. It hadn’t brought Shane back, nor had it eased the pain. Adrenaline gone and his world had been the same; turning slowly and painfully, but almost spinning out of control when even Glenn had pulled his hands off of him, not knowing how to bring him back to himself after all of that.

He thinks about Will, too. How the memories of him still burn with missing and regret, always tinged with anger at the scars he has left behind. He loved his dad fiercely. He loves and misses him still. In the beginning, he’d never understood why Merle didn’t seem to care as much. He hasn’t shed a single tear over their loss. Though no-one else is allowed to speak ill about his blood, Daryl doubts that he misses him. He understands that better now.

He can’t imagine Rick telling Carl to brace himself.

Or Rick asking Judith whether she’s ready.

His dad loved him. He knows that. In his bones, he knows it. But now, he also knows that there was something twisted about it all. About the lashes and the hugs that came after, about the ever-changing rules he was forced to break without even knowing it and the strange reliance on the one thing that would always bind them: _blood_. Old-world principles, he thinks as the gate to the Kingdom is being opened for them.

‘Welcome back, Dare!’

‘Hey Daryl, everything all right?’

‘Yo, Dixon!’

Daryl raises his hand at the guards. ‘Yeah, everything’s fine. Thanks.’

‘You got it!’

Out of the corner of his eye, the teenager can see how Rick smiles. Hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket again and heels clicking on the concrete. They saunter through the streets. More people greet them, nodding at the leader of Alexandria and grinning at the teenager at his side. All the attention makes Daryl nervous but he still waves and calls out greetings in return because Rick stays silent through it all. At the gateway to the royal gardens, Rick stops.

‘This is why I lied to them,’ he says as he watches over the community. ‘Because I didn’t want them to look at you as some heartless monster who killed someone in cold blood. I didn’t want you to come back to whispers behind you back and suspicious stares.’

‘I did though,’ Daryl says softly. ‘After. I did kill a man just because I could.’

Rick nods. ‘We told them he was reaching for his gun.’

‘He wasn’t.’

‘No. He wasn’t.’

‘So, what?’ Daryl asks through clenched teeth. ‘I’m just going to have to live with that?’

‘Yes.’ Rick puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes. ‘Carry what you cause,’ he says before heading back towards their home.

‘That’s all you’re gonna give me? _Carry what you cause_?’

‘What do you want me to give you, Daryl?’ the cop asks as he walks back to him. ‘Absolution? You killed a man who didn’t deserve to die that night, and you have to make peace with that somehow. There’s nothing I can say to justify what you did. Yes, you were angry and hurt and scared – and yes; you should have never been there in the first place. In that situation. And I will carry that for the rest of my life, but I don’t know what it is that you want from me. I’m _sorry_. For putting too much responsibility on you from the very start of all of this, for giving you that machete, for asking you to give up on who you are for the greater good. I’m sorry for making you think Merle and Maggie were dead, for leaving you at the Kingdom like that, for making you fight in a war you weren’t ready for. And I’m sorry for choosing you in the end. I tried to protect you and I failed and I’m _sorry_!’ Rick takes a shuddering breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. ‘And if you ever say something as… ‘ he shakes his head. ‘I didn’t want you to die. Not that day, not while you were at the sanctuary, not _ever_. Do you hear me? Because…’ he looks away with tears in his eyes. ‘I don’t know what I’d do if you’d… ‘ He looks back at the teenager, puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes hard. ‘I don’t know what I would have done if we’d lost you. And you can hate me all you want for it; but I’m not going to allow you to lose _yourself_.’

Daryl looks down at his boots.

Rick takes hold of his chin and forces his gaze up again. ‘I _love_ you.’

‘Same. But I hate you, too.’

‘That’s fine.’

‘I’ll always hate ya for what you did to my dad,’ he tells him. ‘And right now I hate you for not letting me kill that son of a bitch, but… maybe, someday… ya know. I won’t so mad about it no more. Maybe…’ he takes a deep breath, ‘maybe someday it’ll be enough that he’s rotting away in some cell all by himself, without ever seeing this new world.’

‘I hope so, because that’s how it’s going to be. And I hope you find your peace with that,’ Rick leans forward and presses a kiss to his forehead. ‘And with everything else.’

 

 

 


	7. Watch duty

 

* * *

 

 

 

‘Nah, she forgot all about your pathetic ass,’ Daryl moans as he tries to bury his head under his pillow. ‘Leave me the hell alone, man.’

‘Come on!’ Carl urges while he pokes his brother in the side. They’re lying on his bed, Daryl covered by blankets and pillows in an attempt to get away from him. The large bedroom had been Carl’s after all and Daryl has claimed the empty spot next to him instead of staying in his single room. He’s regretting that decision now.

‘She hooked up with – with a doctor.’

‘A _doctor_? What – shut the fuck up and tell me about her. Stop being such an asshole!’

Daryl laughs. With a faked groan, he emerges from the mountain of fluff to fall onto it instead, peeking at his brother with one eye.

Carl looks at him expectantly. The long brown hair is sticking out into all directions and there are sleep wrinkles on his face and bare chest. The bandage covering his eye is dirty. He yawns without covering his mouth.

His brother aims a kick at him. ‘Keep your morning breath on your side of the bed!’

‘ _All of this_ is my bed! This is _mine_!’ Carl dives onto his back, elbows digging into the Dixon’s spine as he crawls on top of him. ‘All mine,’ he sprawls out, swatting the boy beneath him in the face. ‘My bed.’

‘Oh my God, you’re so heavy. Get the fuck off of me!’

‘Tell me about Enid!’ Carl grabs hold of his brother’s hair and pulls before digging his chin into the boy’s shoulder. ‘Come on!’

‘Stop humping me while talking about your girlfriend, man!’ Daryl grunts as he tries to roll over. He’s glad when Carl slides off of him. ‘You know what she said when I left? I almost forgot about it, man, I’m sorry.’

‘What?’

‘To give you a hundred kisses,’ Daryl says before he jumps his friend, planting slobbery kisses on the left side of his face. ‘Here, boo-boo, here baby boy, aahw, _aahw_!’

The door to their bedroom opens. Michonne arches her eyebrow but doesn’t seem too surprised to find the two boys wrestling on the bed, or with Daryl trying to smother his brother with kisses while Carl tries to kick him in the stomach to get away from him. Judith is perched on her hip, face hidden in the crook of her neck. The little girl is still sleeping.

‘Morning, boys. Carl, I need you to look after Judith today.’

‘But dad said I could come with you!’

Michonne frowns, ‘he did?’

‘Yeah! I’m going back to Alexandria, too. I thought Beth was looking after her.’

‘Beth is working, you know that.’

Daryl sighs theatrically and holds his hands up into the air. ‘Give her here.’

Carl looks at him. ‘What? You’re not coming with us?’

‘You have enough people on the crew,’ Daryl says as he sits up and scoots over to his side of the bed. Michonne lifts the little girl onto the spot between the two boys and watches how the Dixon curls up around her. ‘And Rosita and I already ran our laps, so it’s fine. I didn’t have any plans today anyway. I’ll watch her.’

‘Thank you, Dare. We’ll be back around sundown; will you be okay until then?’

The teenager hauls the blankets back over himself and cuddles his sister close. ‘Hmm – yeah. I think we’ll be fine.’ He squeezes his eyes shut when Michonne presses a kiss to his temple. ‘I’m tryin’ to sleep here.’

‘Watch your sister,’ the woman says with a hint of warning around the words. She gives him a pointed look before heading back downstairs to join the rest of the group. ‘Hurry up, Carl!’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl swats blindly at the other boy. ‘Beat it.’

Carl groans but gets out of bed anyway. He sits on the edge for a second, looking around the room to try and locate his clothes he’d just thrown into a corner last night. He scratches at his shoulder. ‘I wish you’d come with us.’

‘Why?’

‘Miss you,’ Carl murmurs as he gets up to stretch and get his clothes. He puts his jeans on first, then his socks and boots, strapping the holster of his gun to his thigh. The weapon is on the bedside table. He checks it.

‘Sap.’

‘I’m serious.’

‘You’re makin’ it worse, stop it.’

‘You’ve hung out more with _my dad_ than you have with me. And I’m your best friend. Right?’

Daryl puts his arm over his eyes. ‘’s because I’m crazy. He’s tryin’ to straighten me out.’

‘That a pun?’

Daryl snorts. ‘Shut the fuck up.’

‘Fine.’ The Grimes boy puts a shirt on. ‘We used to do stuff together all the time, and now you’re-‘

‘Dude,’ Daryl carefully sits up as not to jostle Judith. ‘We just _fought_ _a war_ together. I’m sorry we haven’t been braiding each other’s hair every single night since then, but I _promise_ I’ll give you pigtails tonight, ‘kay?’

‘You’ve been avoiding me.’

‘Yeah, ‘cause you’re fucking ugly, but that’s nothing new.’

‘ _Dare_.’

 ‘ _Carl_.’

‘Whatever,’ the Grimes mutters. He grabs the sheriff’s hat from a chair and puts it on in front of the mirror. He makes sure that his hair is covering most of the bandage but still pulls a face when it peeks out between the strands.

Daryl sighs and rubs at the back of his neck. ‘Enid was very worried about you. She wanted to write you a letter but I joked that I’d read it, so she didn’t. Sorry. I wouldn’t have done it. And Beth coming with us was a bit of a last minute decision, so… yeah. Enid’s working – you know? Doing her thing. Helpin’ Maggie out where she can. She told me to ask you to come visit Hilltop soon. She misses you.’

Carl looks over his shoulder.

‘She’s okay.’

He gives his brother a slightly embarrassed smile. ‘Thanks.’

Daryl grins back. ‘You’re welcome, you horn-dog. Now go help your dad out and I’ll meet you back here at sundown. We’ll hang out.’

‘So you can make fun of me some more?’

‘What? I ain’t makin’-‘

‘You called me a sap!’

‘Oh _boohoo_. Get the fuck out of here, you cry-baby. Oh no, I’m sorry. Did that hurt your bleedin’ heart again? Sorry! I’ll miss you so much while you’re gone. I don’t know how I’ll manage without having you at my side. I – I’m crying, secretly. _On the inside_ , I’m crying. Asskicker, hold me, I’m so sad,’ Daryl curls up around the little girl again, enjoying the warmth and the way she grabs hold of his shirt automatically to keep him close in her sleep. ‘Thank you. Best Grimes out there.’

‘ _Carl_!’

The teenager leans out of the room to shout back at his dad. ‘ _I’m coming_!’

Judith’s eyes snap open.

‘See?’ Daryl asks. ‘You’re the worst. Look at what you’ve done. Hi, ‘kicker. Good morning, sweetie.’

‘Yeah, good morning honey-bun,’ Carl leans down but kisses Daryl’s cheek at the last second before pecking his sister on her forehead, ‘and bye, Judy!’

‘We hate you!’ Daryl shouts after him. He listens how the other teenager runs down the staircase and lands at the bottom with a dull thud. The mess of voices slowly quiets as his family leaves. The door is closed and then it’s silent in the house.

A strange sense of nervousness slowly creeps into his body. It starts at his fingertips and tingles up his arms before it spreads inside his chest. It’s just him and Judith now. Beth is already at work and the rest of his family has gone back to Alexandria. They’re on their own. It’s not that he’s scared about taking care of the little girl. He used to watch her for days at the time when Rosita wouldn’t let him pull watch duty at Alexandria, and even back at the prison when she’d been just a baby, he’d looked after her on the days he hadn’t been allowed outside the walls to hunt. So it’s not that.

Daryl looks at how Judith sits up and starts to clamber towards the edge of the bed. ‘Yo, Kicker.’

She looks back at him.

He grins because that’s not her name but she listens to it anyway and he gave it to her so long ago. ‘Don’t break your skull fallin’ off. Careful.’

The bed really isn’t high enough to cause her any harm, but he still gets up with a sigh when she continues her determined crawl towards the edge. Just when she reaches it, he plucks her off the bed. ‘There we go,’ he puts her down. ‘A Grimes through and through, huh? Always need a Dixon watchin’ over your ass. Come on. You think Michonne fixed us breakfast? Or was it Rick? Because if it were your dad, we’d rather starve. Yeah,’ he nods when Judith giggles up at him. ‘Your daddy can do a lot of things, but frying an egg right is too much to ask.’

At the top of the stairs the little girl waits until he goes first. He sits down on the second step and nods.

She hops onto his back and squeals when he carries her down.

 

 

‘No!’

‘ _Horse_.’

‘No, no, no.’

‘Horsey!’

‘ _No_.’

‘Are you for real right now?’ Daryl asks Judith, who is perched on his hip so she can peek into the boxes of the horses. They’re walking through the stables and the little girl squeals every time she spots one of the big animals. Right now she’s leaning forward with grabby hands in an attempt to pet one of the black mares. ‘Are _no_ and _mama_ really the one two words you know, or are you holdin’ out on me?’

‘No.’ The rest of what she’s saying is a mess of syllables that don’t form any real words but the girls still looks at him expectantly anyway.

‘Nah, you can’t pet her, but we’ll pet the other black one. This one is feisty. She’ll bite your hand of thinkin’ it’s a snack. She got a point,’ he takes one of her hands and pretends to eat her fingers. ‘Nom, nom nom! Delicious!’

‘ _No_!’ Judith shrieks. ‘Da!’

Daryl grins and bops her, ‘almost! Dare. _Dare’_

‘Dar.’

‘Almost! _Dare_!’

Judith giggles and hugs him tightly.

Another giggle causes Daryl to turn round. There’s a woman standing near the door. She’s carrying a bucket with water for the horses. Sweat glistens on her brow but she doesn’t seem bothered by it. She’s smiling. ‘That’s so cute.’

‘Hmm,’ Daryl hitches the little girl higher onto his hip and tries to think of where he has seen the woman before. She has a familiar face, but he can’t quite place it.

She puts the bucket down at her feet. ‘You’re still wearing it.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘The baseball cap. I sold it to you. Or – well – Negan.’ The smile widens. ‘A crown for a little prince.’

A savior. She’s a savior, the one who’d worked at the market place inside the factory and had given him the cap on Negan’s command. He remembers her now, the memory slotting inside that dark place he likes to forget about during the day and only visits at night. He takes a step backwards, away from her, and tightens his hold on Judith. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

The woman looks confused. Whether it’s by his questions or his hostility, Daryl doesn’t know. ‘I work here,’ she says with a gesture at the bucket. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry.’ She pushes her blonde hair behind one ear. ‘I have some treats for the horses, maybe she’d like to give them some? Here.’ She rummages through the pocket of her jacket and holds out pieces of a carrot.

Daryl sets his jaw. ‘Nah. We were just leavin’.’

‘Oh.’ She sounds disappointed. ‘All right. Well – I really am sorry, about everything, but it was good to see you again, Dare.’

‘Don’t call me that.’

She frowns, ‘I’m sorry?’

‘My family calls me that. You ain’t my blood. Don’t use that name.’

‘Of course. I’m sorry.’

‘ _Stop fucking apologizing to me!_ ’

The sudden raising of his voice startles Judith, who promptly starts crying. She presses herself against his chest and shoulder, small fingers digging into and dragging over the skin of his neck. Her sobs disturb the horses, who stomp against the doors of their boxes with their hooves.

‘Shit, sorry Kicker. There ain’t nothing wrong, shush,’ he presses a kiss to her golden curls and sways her gently. ‘I’m sorry. Everything’s fine, baby.’ He clacks his tongue and reaches out to calm the horse closest to him. ‘Easy, easy.’

Judith whimpers but quiets when he talks to her in his normal voice.

The woman shifts her weight uneasily. ‘I’ll come back later.’

‘No.’ Daryl grinds his teeth together for a moment before hugging Judith tightly, kissing her chubby cheek before urging her to loosen her hold on him. ‘I – I’m – it’s fine. Didn’t mean to –‘ he looks away ‘- freak out. Just don’t mention him again. I don’t want to hear it.’

‘If you’re sure.’

‘I’m sure,’ Daryl says. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Venus.’

He gives her a smile. ‘Second brightest star in the night sky, after the moon. Named after a Roman god of love and beauty.’ He blushes when she raises her eyebrows in surprise. ‘I like stars.’

‘Right,’ she laughs. ‘Well, I need to get on with my chores, or Julia will tan my hide.’ She picks the bucket up and checks which horses need a refill. Most of them have calmed down after Judith’s crying and the girl is staring at them from her perch, one hand reaching out.

‘Yeah,’ Daryl encourages her as he walks to one of the boxes at the back. He knows most of the horses from the time he’d helped Julia out every morning, so he knows which ones are mellow enough to be petted by a tiny human with a shrill voice. ‘Another horse. Look, this is also a black one. She’s a beauty, huh? She’s friends with Khamsin, even though she thinks my girl is bit of a show-off sometimes.’

‘Hu,’ Judith says.

‘ _Horse_ , yeah, good job.’ He swings her from his hip onto the fence so she can see better and be closer to the animal.

‘Here,’ Venus says and she holds out a piece of carrot to Judith. ‘Hi Judy. You can give that to her, she’ll like that.’

Daryl takes it and hands it to his sister. ‘Thank you, ma’am,’ he murmurs before turning back. ‘No! Judy, damn, that’s for the horse!’ he laughs when Judith brings the carrot to her mouth. ‘Look, you want to give it to her? Shall we give the carrot to the horse?’

Judith nods.

‘Okay,’ Daryl hugs her from behind so he can see what she’s doing. ‘Like this, okay?’ He holds his hand out flat, palm up. Judith copies him. ‘Good job! Now, we put the carrot on your palm, don’t move your fingers. Keep still and hold it out.’ He puts the carrot piece on her palm and puts his hand under hers. Together they watch how the horse slowly comes closer and then eats the piece off of her hand.

Judith giggles.

‘Is that funny? Tickles, huh?’

‘Hmya.’

‘Yeah!’ He turns their hand and pets the horse, which causes the little girl to shrink into him with more giggles. She kicks her feet with joy, curls bouncing. ‘Okay,’ he laughs as he lifts her up again. ‘Enough of that. Thank you, horse!’

Judith babbles something.

‘Good job,’ Daryl praises. ‘Come on, you can walk by yourself, I ain’t no mule, carryin’ your heavy ass around all day. On your feet. Feet!’

Judith pulls her legs in when he tries to put her on the ground, whimpering softly.

‘I ain’t playin’,’ he warns. ‘On your feet.’

She plants her feet onto the floor but still pouts, leaning against his leg for a moment as she stares up at him.

He raises a single eyebrow.

She giggles.

He laughs and holds out his hand. ‘Let’s go, Kicker.’

 

 

The girl has a melt-down when he tries to put her down for a nap. There’s screaming and crying and defiantly thrown stuffed animals, and it doesn’t help that the youngest Dixon is getting frustrated himself. Every time he turns his back, she climbs out of the bed to follow him back downstairs. He’s tried lying down with her, which only resulted in them glaring at each other from opposite ends of the pillow, and he’s tried reading her a story but she keeps closing the book with clumsy hands and he tries not to be offended that he’s doing the voices wrong, apparently.

She’s crying right now. Fat tears rolling down her cheeks as she looks at him helplessly.

‘I don’t know what to do, Kicker,’ he says softly, reaching out to dry her chubby cheek. ‘I’m sorry. Just – please just go to sleep. You’ll feel better, I promise.’

Judith chews on her fingers.

‘Want me to go get Beth?’ he asks and then slumps in his seat, ‘but she’s working. It’s important she learns. We can’t just go in there ‘cause you’re bein’ a pain.’

The girl whimpers.

‘Sorry, you’re not a pain. I love you. Okay, how about this; we’ll go for a walk.’ He picks her up and heads back downstairs and out of the house. It’s noon; most people are taking a break from their work to get out of the beaming sun. They’re lounging in the shadows or hiding in the houses, sipping on water and eating the fresh fruit from the King’s gardens.

People’s heads snap up at the shrill sound of Judith’s crying.

Daryl ignores them. His ears only burn a little bit. He tries to think of things Rick used to do to calm his daughter, but his mind goes blank. He knows that Michonne sings to her, but he doesn’t know any of the songs. He’s tried talking, the way Will had comforted her once with his deep, rumbling voice, but his doesn’t do the trick. There were days in the prison when even Beth couldn’t get her to settle down, so he knows that he isn’t failing horribly, but just lucking out with her mood, but he still feels guilty that she’s crying so much on his watch.

They pass a building and Daryl stops.

‘He’s inside,’ Jerry says from where he’s standing guard. ‘What’s up with the princess?’

‘I don’t know,’ Daryl admits.

‘He’s inside,’ Jerry repeats with a smile.

Daryl nods his thanks and heads into the cooler building. The way down to the auditorium is familiar by now. He’s sat on that stage many times, watching how the King solves the problems his people brought to him. Drought and spoiled goods, blocked roads and a lack of farmhands. Daryl had lounged in the corner, one leg swinging off the stage while he’d drawn Shiva sleeping next to the throne, or King Ezekiel, delivering his decree in the mornings.

The auditorium is empty except for a couple of people who are standing around a table on the stage. Ezekiel is listening to one of his guards, a thoughtful frown on his face which dissolves as soon as the peaceful atmosphere is broken by a child’s crying.

‘Daryl Dixon of Alexandria,’ Ezekiel smiles warmly when he spots the teenager. ‘Welcome. Approach.’

‘Thanks,’ Daryl grins back as he makes his way towards the stage. ‘Are you busy?’

‘There is always work,’ the King says, ‘but nothing that cannot wait a few moments longer. In fact, we might be in need of your help, if you are willing to give it. But first; tell me why you’ve sought me out on this fine morning.’

‘This is gonna sound stupid, but… Beth’s at work and I don’t really wanna interrupt, but….’ He looks down at Judith, who is still wailing. ‘My ears will start to bleed in two seconds. I – I don’t know what to do.’

Ezekiel laughs. ‘In all my blessed days of wearing a crown, never once have my people brought forth this problem; a crying child.’

‘It’s just,’ Daryl hitches his sister higher onto his hip. ‘I don’t know a lot of people – Like I _know_ a lot of people here but… I don’t want them…  Never mind, I’ll just ask Beth to-‘

‘Leave her to her studies,’ Ezekiel orders as he comes down from the stage. ‘Give her to me and I’ll see what I can do.’ He waits until the youngest Dixon makes up his mind completely and hands her over. ‘Hello, Judith Grimes of Alexandria. Yes,’ he beams down at her when she blinks at her new environment. ‘Go to sleep now, sweet child.’

Judith looks up at him with tear-filled eyes.

‘Olélé,’ Ezekiel sings softly. ‘Olélé.’ The words that follow aren’t English but they form a beautiful melody that even leaves the teenager spell-bound. He watches how the king sits down on the edge of the stage, cradling the toddler in his arms as she buries herself in his warmth. The tip of her thumb disappears between pale lips as she listens to the song. He sits down on one of the chairs in the auditorium and stares at the ceiling, listening to the soothing song. There’s no point in trying to remember the words, so he just enjoys the moment.

Judith’s cries die out.

The song is repeated twice before the King’s voice fades, too.

Daryl sighs and rubs at his eyes before looking up again. ‘Thanks,’ he says softly.

‘You’re both very welcome,’ the King says as he brushes the girl’s hair out of her face. ‘It’s hard to find peace in this world sometimes. It brings me great joy to able to give it one another. To be able to give it still,’ he nods, ‘after all we’ve done. It must be frustrating,’ he says as he strokes his thumb over the back of her hand, ‘to not have the words to say what is troubling you.’

Daryl hums and walks over to them, sitting down next to the King. Behind them, the meeting continues without them. The youngest Dixon glances over his shoulder, ‘I can take her back now. They probably need you.’

‘A good and strong Kingdom doesn’t rely on the wisdom of one man, but on that of many. They shall ask, should they need my council.’

‘I thought that was the whole point of a Kingdom; one man leading.’

‘There are many voices and all deserve to be heard. It is the burden of the King to pick the one to which all shall listen. I rely on my people to give me council, in the same way they rely on me to pick the voice that is obeyed. It is a partnership, or it is doomed to fail.’

‘Right.’ Daryl swings his legs.

Ezekiel looks amused for a moment. ‘Ask your question.’

The teenager smirks at his boots. The king knows him well. Then he glances up at the man. ‘Were you okay with all this? _Saviors_ inside your walls? With your people?’

The King sighs softly. ‘We fought for a new world. A free world. We did not pick up our weapons just for our people, but for all. You have seen it with your own eyes, you have been where they lived for so long that they began to forget their own names. Most did not choose that life. It was chosen for them by fate and chance and circumstance. By desperation and punishment. We can show them a better world. We will.’

Daryl eyes him.

‘I had my doubts, of course,’ Ezekiel admits. ‘My heart was heavy from our losses. And like so many; I thirsted for revenge. But that, too, is a King’s burden; to do what is best for your people, and to keep them safe from whatever harm. Even if that is you, and your heart. We have wept, for to weep is to make less the depth of grief. And we will live again. And we will love again. They are not Saviors any longer. They are our brothers. Our sisters. And they are mine to protect now.’

‘What about Negan?’

Ezekiel puts a hand on Daryl’s knee and squeezes. ‘Pity him.’

‘ _Pity_ him?’

‘He does not love. He wants to _own_ things, and people. He brands them with his own name to make them his. He will never be able to look at a child and experience this joy; of giving peace. That was his lie; live under my roof and live in peace. Instead, they were branded and lived in terror of his wrath.’ Ezekiel strokes Judith’s cheek. ‘Love is always strange, and it often hurts, but it should not evoke terror in your heart. At the thought of them hurt, being in pain, yes. Not at the mere thought of them. You can love someone who is near, but should they decide to leave? You wish them well, and love them from afar. You do not punish them for choosing their own path, or for keeping their own name.’

‘Rick made a deal with him.’

Ezekiel smiles. ‘And you want to know what that deal entails.’

‘Yes.’

‘It does not concern you. Negan cares about his own life, nothing more. He’ll let himself be muzzled, if it means he gets to live.’

Daryl frowns. ‘So, he won’t say nothing about everything that went down, and Rick won’t kill him?’

‘No. He is locked in a cage, there is nobody who would listen to his stories now. The deal is for another time; it does not concern you now.’

‘It doesn’t concern me now, or it doesn’t concern me at all?’

Ezekiel laughs softly. ‘Maggie must be proud.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘All parents are proud when their children show their heart, and their wit. Let it be now, Daryl. He is locked away. Let it be.’

Daryl sighs but obeys the King’s request. He watches how his sister sleeps in his arms and listens to the meeting behind them. After a couple of moments, he gets up and joins them at the table. A map has been spread out on it, safe houses marked on with red stickers. ‘The king said you needed my help with something?’

‘Oh,’ one of the general looks up, ‘yes, do you-‘

‘That safe house is gone,’ Daryl interrupts. He points at one of the houses near Hilltop. ‘The roof collapsed after the last storm. Jesus and his crew secured another nearby though. It’s a mile further North.’

The general smiles. ‘That is exactly what we needed to know, thank you. Are there any other changes?’

‘Yeah,’ he hops onto the table so he can see the whole map better. ‘They’ve put up roadblocks. Like – natural roadblocks, fallen trees and stuff in a couple places. If they’ve been cleared, someone’s moving through our area. I can map them out.’

‘Maggie has been busy.’

‘Maggie has Jesus on her side,’ Daryl laughs. ‘He’s leading our defenses right now. Runs, supplies, the watches – everything goes through him. Maggie’s focusing on the expansion, and the rest of the community, the gardens, general stuff. And  - you know – having a kid.’

A couple of people snort. They watch how the teenager easily marks the map, finding the roads while sitting on the wood, clenching the marker between his teeth as he leans over to point at Alexandria and the road that’s leading there. It’s their supply route, one that will be reinforced by watchtowers later. He explains the plans about the expansion even though he still dislikes the thought of having Saviors under their roof.

But maybe, it’ll all work out in the end.

 

 

He is sitting with Judith on the porch when the rest of his family comes home. The little girl is trying to grab hold of one of his bolts while he pulls it out of her grasp every time. He’s holding it above her head right now, struggling to keep it high enough when the girl gets up and starts jumping for it.

A sharp whistle cuts through the air.

Both Daryl and Judith freeze and then their gazes snap to Rick, who’s walking ahead of the group. He looks tired, shirt stained by sweat, but there’s a broad smile on his face. It grows impossibly wider when his daughter squeals and runs towards him. Daryl watches how the man sinks to his knees to catch her and hug her close. Then he gets up, too, and walks towards Merle, who’s grinning at him.

‘Monster,’ he greets, slinging an arm around his brother’s shoulders. ‘She didn’t eat you alive?’

‘Close call, brother. Don’t know how you managed back in the day. I’m fuckin’ _exhausted_.’

‘We had NASCAR races to keep you occupied, and some moonshine to knock you out if we were sick of you. Worked like a goddamn charm.’

‘You serious?’

‘Scouts honor,’ Merle laughs. ‘You were a little older though.’

‘How old?’

‘I dunno, like six?’

‘You got me drunk when I was six?’

Merle laughs, ‘yeah! You’re gonna thank me later, that’s something to brag about, bro! Held your first drink when you couldn’t even tie your shoes right. If that ain’t a true Dixon statement, I dunno what is, man.’

Michonne shakes her head. ‘Don’t listen to him, about anything. Did everything go all right? No problems?’

‘Yeah, everything’s cool now. We fed the horses some treats, played with blocks, we gotta get her something other than those damn dolls though. Find her an action figure or something, I’m not playing with those damn dolls next time. She kinda freaked out after lunch though.’

‘Oh?’

‘I took her to Ezekiel, Beth was still at work, so… I couldn’t get her to stop cryin’.’ He wipes his nose on the back of his hand to avoid her gaze. ‘Sorry.’

She puts a hand on his shoulder. ‘She seems perfectly fine. And asking help from your friends is always the best solution.’

‘Yo, Dare,’ Carl jumps onto his back, forcing him a couple of steps away from Michonne who glares at the Grimes boy knowingly. She probably wanted to give him a lecture about how asking for help is okay. ‘Let’s go! We were gonna hang out, right? Or…’

‘Yeah, totally, let’s go.’ Daryl grabs his elbow and they start running towards the gate.

‘ _Daryl_!’

The teenager stops and turns.

Rick has one hand on Judith’s curls. He smiles. ‘Thank you.’

‘Yeah. You got it.’

‘Both of you boys; home before watch-change.’

‘Yes, dad.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Another second and then Rick waves them away.

They run through the Kingdom, chasing each other through the streets, Daryl leading his brother to the apple tree in the outer fields.

 

 

‘Michonne said that it is my show now.’

Daryl looks up at his brother, who is pacing around restlessly. The youngest Dixon is lying in the tall grass, chewing on some tobacco he’d found in Merle’s stuff. ‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’ Carl eyes him. ‘You don’t sound very surprised.’

‘New world, old ways, right? Your dad runs Alexandria now, ‘course you’re going to be next. Good name gets you a good job for free, is what my dad used to say.’ He spits the tobacco out. ‘Don’t give me that look. He wouldn’t be givin’ it to you if you were useless trash. He said the same thing to me. Not about Alexandria, but – you know. We’re the shining beacons of the New world.’

‘Yeah, we are.’

Daryl scoffs. ‘You really believe that?’

‘I do.’

He hums.

‘What, you don’t?’ Carl asks with a frown.

‘Weren’t kiddin’ when I said I were crazy. Ain’t right in the head. I want that son of a bitch dead, and I’m going to get my chance. Not today and not tomorrow, but I’m going to get that shot off. No matter what. He’s a dead man, walking.’

Carl shrugs. ‘You’ll change your mind someday. And even if you don’t, it doesn’t matter.’

‘Why? Because nobody’s lookin’ at me for nothing? _You_ are the next leader of Alexandria, right?’

‘Yes. I am.’ Carl straightens his back. Then he grins at his brother. ‘And Maggie’s child is too young to lead Hilltop. So step up, Dare. You scared or something?’

‘Ain’t scared of nothing.’

‘Except for when people _do_ look at you, right?’

‘Hilltop’s got Maggie. Jesus is her right-hand man. Hilltop’s sorted.’

‘You think they don’t want to step down one day? It’s going to be _our_ world, Daryl. Whatever _we_ make of it.’ Carl’s eyes are shining in the moonlight.

Daryl sits up. ‘Yeah. Maybe.’

‘What? You want to pass _this_ on to Judy? Come on, man. We got to set up a trade system, rebuild Alexandria, reach out to more communities. There are more out there, I know there are. We can’t be the only ones. The Kingdom was right on our doorstep and we had no idea. Who knows what’s further West, or East, or anywhere! We’ve got to find out, man. And if there’s nothing left – we’re going to _make_ something. The New world. _Our_ world.’

Daryl nods. He watches how Carl takes a deep breath and beams at the moon, high above them. He falls back into the grass and hides the fact that he feels sick.

He can’t see the stars, or moon. Just the darkness between them.

 

 


	8. Responsibility - history -  family

 

* * *

 

 

 

‘Doce.’

‘Good.’

‘Trece,’ Daryl grunts.

Rosita nods, ‘all the way up, stop slacking, Dare. All the way down, all the way up.’

The teenager pants as he lies on the ground, staring up at the sky that is still gray, sunrise a couple of moments away. His heart is racing. His abs burn. The woman is sitting on his feet to keep them down while he does his sit-ups. A couple of minutes ago, he’d done the same for her, but she was done in a flash. He’s struggling. ‘I gotta fucking count in another language and do sit-ups at the same time, woman! I ain’t slacking!’

‘Up, or you’re starting back at _uno_.’

He quickly sits up. ‘Catorce.’

Rosita laughs at him. ‘Good job. Down, slowly, controlled. There you go. Up.’

‘Quincy.’

‘ _How_ did you just pronounce that?’

Daryl laughs while he goes back down again, arms curling around his stomach. ‘Did I fuck it up? Oh shit, I can’t – I can’t do more. I’m done.’

‘You’re not done and you’re going to do _quince_ again. Up. Dare, _come on_. You’re being beaten by a girl right now.’

He shakes his head, ‘a girl-terminator though. Have you fucking seen your muscles? _Goddamn_. Okay, quince. _Quince_ ,’ he repeats so he won’t mess it up the next time. ‘Sixteen is hard, help me out with it again?’

Rosita smiles but still counts with him as soon as he does the next sit-up. He pushes through to fifty, finishing the last while gritting his teeth and groaning. Everything burns but the sun is finally coming up. It’s the signal that their workout is over because Rosita will head out to Alexandria soon. The running is easier now, after doing it every single day, but the sit-ups are new and he doesn’t like them much.

They walk back to the house together. The guards patrolling the wall flash him a thumbs-up and greet Rosita cheerfully. The pair has become a familiar sight to them, chasing each other during their laps or Rosita whooping his ass during the exercises. Sometimes they’ll place bets on who will win the sprint they always do on their last mile. It’s always Rosita who wins, but he’s getting faster and faster. It won’t be long before he wins one.

‘Good job today, _principito_ ,’ Rosita praises as she walks up the steps to their house and holds the door open for him.

‘Thanks,’ Daryl murmurs as he wipes sweat from his brow. ‘What does that word mean?’

‘That’s for you to figure out,’ the woman grins.

‘How the hell am I supposed to learn if you won’t teach?’ Daryl asks as he grabs a towel from the staircase and dries his hair with it.

The rest of their family has just started on breakfast. The smell of it makes his stomach growl because he’s only allowed to eat a piece of fruit before their work out. According to Rosita, that’s better than running on a full stomach. Rick, Michonne and Carl are sitting at the kitchen table. The teenager has his little sister in his lap which leaves one seat free.

Merle, Beth and Tara are sitting around the coffee table.

‘Princip – _principito_ , right? C’mon, tell me what it means! You cussin’ me out?’

That makes her laugh. ‘No. Principito,’ she repeats to let him get the pronunciation right, ‘it means; little prince. People have been calling you that around here, it sort of stuck. I thought it was cute. Did Ezekiel call you that or-‘

‘Weren’t Ezekiel,’ Daryl cuts in with a shaky voice.

At the table, Rick slowly rises. ‘Rosita,’ he says, voice low and stern, ‘don’t-‘

‘No.’ Daryl lowers the towel and wrings it between his hands to have something to do. ‘It’s – It’s fine, I just – I…’ he throws the cloth into a corner and won’t look at his friend. This is what he’s been afraid of. With the Saviors now among his friends, it won’t be long before everyone knows what happened at the Sanctuary. It won’t be just a secret he shares with Rick anymore. Everyone will know. He sets his jaw and forces his gaze up. ‘Negan called me that, when I was – when I was… there, you know?’

The laughter disappears from Rosita’s face.

‘My dad used to call me little king. Negan said he were the king already, but I could be the prince. Told him I were – told him I were thirteen, so maybe he’d go easier on me, so… little prince. Made sense to him.’ Daryl wipes his nose on the back of his hand and hates how he can’t keep it still or steady. He tries to smile but it fails. ‘That breakfast I smell?’

‘Dare,’ Rosita says, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t-‘

‘Yeah, whatever,’ he murmurs before walking towards the kitchen and sitting down next to Carl. Everyone is looking at him. ‘Did you guys eat it all or…?’

Michonne straightens up. ‘We waited for you.’

‘Thanks.’ He plays with his fork and knife to avoid everyone’s eye. After a couple of seconds, however, he can’t keep the act up. ‘What?’ he snaps at no-one in particular. ‘I got something on my face now? Good lord.’

Rick, who’d gotten up to head to the stove, puts a calming hand on his shoulder. ‘Easy,’ he says softly.

Daryl jerks his shoulder so he lets go of him.

The cop leaves him be. Breakfast is served and everyone eats in uncomfortable silence. Rosita disappears upstairs to change clothes and Daryl hunches his shoulders, curling in on himself so he won’t have to look at anyone.

Carl is the first to shift in his seat and clear his throat. ‘Ok – so. Dare? We were talking about Alexandria earlier – we need to get the electrical system up and running again.’

Daryl grunts.

Carl glances at his dad but soldiers on. ‘Do you think you can help with that?’

Daryl slams his fork down, ‘what, I got an electrical degree in my back pocket I didn’t know about now? You think I were some kid genius who went to college at ten for some fuckin’ green energy bullshit or something? Go fuck yourself, man.’

 A flash of anger crosses Carl’s face but he just takes a deep breath. ‘I thought – you know everyone, everywhere. Maybe you know anyone who might know something about solar panels – energy circuits, converters – something like that.’

‘No. I don’t,’ Daryl snaps.

‘There’s no reason to be a little bitch to me just because you’re mad that –‘

‘Carl,’ Michonne warns.

‘ _He_ started it!’

‘And I’m gonna finish it too, if you don’t shut the hell up, you dumb fu-‘

Rick gets up. ‘Daryl. Take your plate and go to your room. Cool off and-‘

‘ _Who the hell do you think you are, sending me to my room_?’ Daryl shouts as he jumps to his feet, too. The chair clatters onto the floor. ‘You ain’t Will! Or Shane! And you sure as hell aren’t taking Glenn’s place, you piece of sh-‘

‘Daryl.’ Michonne’s voice cuts in. ‘You _are_ going to take your plate and you _are_ going up to your room, _right now_. Do not make me repeat myself.’

He glares at her for a moment but then snatches his plate up and runs up the staircase. Instead of going into his room, he pretends to by slamming the door closed and then walks back to the top of the stairs. He sits down and waits. It doesn’t take long for the conversation to start back up. What surprises him, however, is that Rick turns on Merle. His voice is low and soft but vicious as he hisses at the older Dixon that he should take some responsibility in all of this. Merle doesn’t seem to have an answer. It’s difficult to hear everything Rick is saying, even though the rest of the house has gone deadly silent. He catches words and phrases.

_Responsibility. History. Family. Brother. Shane._

Daryl puts the plate aside and takes his cap off. He runs his fingers through his long hair. He knows that Shane would have done the same thing; send him to his room so he could cool off before they’d talk. Glenn had done if often enough, too. While he’d fought them every step of the way, the pattern had become soothing, in a strange way. He knows that no matter what he’d done, he’d just have to calm down and sit out his punishment. That had been the easy part of course. The part where he had to talk had been frustrating for both him and the two men.

Use your words, Glenn would plead while Shane would warn that he wouldn’t be playing his game of snarling and glaring.

It usually ended with them giving each other a quick hug before he was excused, to show that he’d been forgiven. That had been new, too. Sure, Will would give him kisses and cuddles after a punishment, but not until there was blood dripping down his back. And even then it always felt more like Will asking for forgiveness than him getting it.

He looks at the baseball cap. He’s not a kid anymore. Waiting in his room until one of his dads comes to forgive him for what he’s done. He’ll never hear those heavy boots on the steel staircase of the prison again, or Glenn’s sneakers running up Alexandria’s steps. They’re sounds he’ll always miss, but sounds he’d have to grow out of eventually. Everything he does now, will be his to carry, alone. And all his problems, his to solve as well.

And nothing gets solved by just waiting it out these days.

He puts the baseball cap back on and eats his food quietly. When he’s done, he heads back downstairs to put the plate in the sink. The rest of his family is watching him warily.

‘Sorry,’ Daryl mutters as he glances at Rick. ‘Got mad and I didn’t – didn’t think. Didn’t mean that either. Like, you’re - … you can stay stuff like that to me.’

Rick looks surprised but tries to hide it. ‘Thank you for apologizing.’

‘Yeah.’ He clips Carl over the back of the boy’s head. ‘Sorry.’

‘Asshole.’

‘Pussy.’

Carl laughs and aims a kick at him which doesn’t really work out because Judith is sitting on his knee.

‘Careful,’ Daryl grins as he leans down to kiss the girl on the top of her head. ‘Precious cargo. Thanks for breakfast, Rick. I’m going to head out,’ he heads over to the coatrack where he’d hung his crossbow earlier. ‘Huntin’ today.’

‘Do you think that’s a good idea right now?’ Michonne asks carefully.

He hasn’t been alone outside of the walls since the war. The idea frightens him, but he pushes that aside. The woods have been his safe haven since he was old enough to run from Will’s anger. It’s not a place that should frighten him. He knows every sound, every path. He knows how to survive out there. He just needs to start doing it.

‘Yeah, I’ll be fine,’ he says as he aims a kick at Merle’s boot to make his brother look up. ‘ _I said_ ; I’m going out to hunt.’

Merle blinks. ‘Yeah. Okay. See you tonight, monster.’

‘Yeah.’ He waits. Wobbles on his feet. Rubs a sweaty palm over his thigh to dry it.

Merle stays silent and looks lost.

Rick sighs. ‘Dare,’ he calls out. ‘Knife, bow, holler.’

‘You got it.’

Merle snorts. ‘You need _magic words_ to go huntin’ now, monster?’

The teenager sucks on his teeth. ‘Nah. Most of the time, back at the prison, I wasn’t even in range with the walkie-talkies, and we don’t have walkie-talkies now. Ain’t no point in hollerin’. No-one’s gonna hear out there. I know that.’ He hitches his bow higher onto his shoulder. ‘It’s permission to go.’

‘So you need _permission_ now?’

‘Yeah,’ he glares at his brother. ‘But not yours, apparently. Later, Merle.’

 

 

The woods welcome him home with a soft breeze and plenty of game. He sheds his nerves like a snake sheds its skin as soon as he hears his footsteps disappear into the soft earth. He follows the trail rabbits have made, jumps over forgotten fences and heads deeper and deeper into the heart of his hometown. Confidence grows inside of him when he balances on a fallen tree, arms out-stretched while listening to the shuffling footsteps of a walker. The first second he’d heard it, he’d frozen like a deer caught in his sight, but then instinct took over; a walker. He knows the difference between walkers and humans by ear.

He relearns to trust the voice inside of his own head.

That also means that he knows he’s being followed as soon as he makes it to the top of a hill. It doesn’t worry him much. He’s standing on the edge of the tree line, fully exposed, and not a single shot has rung out yet. The person following him is small and quick, but also clumsy which puzzles him. It can’t be Beth or Carl because both are much quieter in the woods.

He looks out over the fields and squeezes his bow. It rests comfortingly in his hands, heavy with promise and warm to his touch. ‘Best show your face,’ he says after glancing over his shoulder at the bush the person is hiding behind, ‘or I’m gonna put a bolt in it.’

The leaves rustle.

‘Don’t shoot!’ First, two hands come up and then a boy appears. Smaller than himself and much younger, too. Dirty blond hair that has been neatly cut to stay out of his eyes. He’s wearing armor from the Kingdom but it doesn’t fit well. It’s too big on him. His pale cheeks are flushed from trying to keep up with the teenager. ‘It’s me.’

Benjamin’s little brother, Henry.

‘The hell are you doin’ followin’ me around?’ Daryl hisses as he turns around to face him properly. ‘Does Ezekiel know you’re out here?’

‘No,’ Henry looks a little guilty at that but puffs up his chest as he says; ‘I snuck out!’

‘You snuck out during the aftermath of a goddamn war, in the middle of the goddamn apocalypse, and you manage to look damn proud of it, too? Are you tryin’ to get yourself killed, kid? ‘cause there are easier ways to go about it!’

The boy looks at his boots with a disgruntled frown and then meets his icy gaze again. ‘No?’ he says. ‘I just – I saw you head out and I thought – maybe –err – maybe you can teach me stuff?’

‘I could have told you fuckin’ _no_ at the gates, no need to follow me out here. Good lord,’ he walks over to him and checks his belt. ‘You ain’t even armed, you moron!’

Henry blushes. ‘Ezekiel says I’m too young, but Morgan has been teaching me the stick!’

‘The bo,’ Daryl corrects. ‘So, where is it then?’

‘He won’t let me carry it around. I can only use it during training.’

‘So you’re unarmed, stumbling around the woods like an elephant, _following_ me! I could have shot you a mile back without asking any questions, do you even realize that?’

Henry shrugs helplessly. ‘I just want to learn.’

‘Learn _what_?’

‘To hunt, of course! Everyone says you’re the best! They say you killed like _a hundred_ Saviors, on your own. You tracked them down and you killed them all. At the outpost?’ Henry says eagerly, eyes wide with wonder and admiration, ‘and then you killed some at the Sanctuary, too! _Dozens_ more during the war!’

Daryl stares at him in horror.

The little boy beams at him. ‘Maybe you can teach me, too!’

‘To kill Saviors?’

‘Well,’ Henry bites his lip and frowns, ‘King Ezekiel says they’re not our enemy anymore. They’re our brothers and sisters now. But, there will be others, right?’ he sounds hopeful. ‘And if you teach me – I can find them! And kill them all!’ He mimes cocking a gun and points it at Daryl’s forehead. ‘ _Pow_!’

There’s sweat dripping down Daryl’s back even though he isn’t hot.

‘We didn’t – we didn’t just go out there and kill them,’ Daryl stutters. ‘We – We didn’t _hunt_ them just because we could, we-‘

‘I know,’ Henry nods. ‘We had a deal with them. And that deal was… wrong? It was wrong,’ he nods decisively. ‘And then your friends got killed and we still had the deal but… they killed my brother so we killed them. Next time? We won’t wait for them to kill one of us, right? Next time, we will strike first. _Ha_!’ He mimes striking Daryl’s knee with his Bo. ‘So you have to teach me how to hunt and kill them all!’

The new world, Daryl thinks numbly as he stares at the child. _This_ is what is left. _This_ is what comes after.

This is his legacy.

He is the inspiration for more hatred, and bloodshed and another generation, lost. Maybe one day, Judith will carry his trusted crossbow and brag about how many people she has shot down. Or maybe Maggie’s child will smirk and carve another line on his holster for another life taken. Kicking heels and never looking back at what could have been. What kind of a world they could have built because this is all they’ve inherited; war stories and graves.

With his heart thundering in his ears, he sinks to his knees in front of the child. ‘No,’ he says, voice rough. ‘That ain’t- Those stories? That’s half of what happened. We fought a war for the freedom of our people – yes. We’ve killed Saviors. _I_ killed Saviors, yeah. That ain’t something to be _proud_ of.’

Henry frowns. ‘But you protected your family.’

‘Yes. But you don’t kill someone and walk away from that. You don’t. No matter how much… how much you think they deserved what they got, no matter how angry you are – you don’t sleep. And if you do – you wish you wouldn’t,  you –‘ He searches for the right words to explain it all. ‘You have to _carry_ it. You carry what you cause, no matter how justified you think it was.’

‘My brother was a soldier!’

‘I know,’ Daryl nods. ‘And you want to be just like _him_ , because he was a good person.’

Henry pulls at his fingers. ‘I don’t understand, I just want to help.’

‘You _can_ help,’ the teenager nods as he adjusts the boy’s armor. ‘The fight’s been long and hard, but…’ the words almost get stuck in his throat but he manages to get them out, ‘- but it’s _over_. We’re going to have to rebuild a lot of things – not just Alexandria, but… things inside of us. We have to .. change, somehow. Go back, maybe – just…’ he sighs. ‘Your brother was a royal guard.’

Henry nods proudly.

‘I know that Ezekiel is going to need _your_ help now. So you train with Morgan, and you ask if Julia will teach you how to ride a horse, okay? Maybe Jayla will teach you how to shoot a bow. Learn to patch people up, how to keep your King safe, huh? And while you’re doing that, you listen to Morgan. You listen to King Ezekiel. And you learn everything they have to teach you – not just about fighting. About everything else, too.’

‘Like what?’

Daryl wipes his nose on the back of his hand. ‘Like when to fight, and when to lay down your arms. How to be a good person. How to be a man,’ he grins as he shoves the boy’s shoulder. ‘A _good_ man.’

‘Did they teach you that?’

‘They tried,’ Daryl smiles. ‘Others did, too. My dad, of course, but I lost him. And then others. Shane and Glenn. Hershel, Rick, my brother. Maggie of course, but Carol, too. Everyone I know taught me something. Everyone in the Kingdom can teach _you_ something.’

‘You live in the Kingdom. You can teach me how to hunt!’

Daryl shakes his head. ‘Morgan will teach you all that. He’s smarter than me, don’t stick your nose up like that. I will teach you one thing, though,’ the teenager says as he stands up. ‘Can you whistle?’

Henry frowns. ‘A little.’

‘Good. Listen carefully.’ Daryl whistles the notes his dad had taught him a long, long time ago. The first couple of bars he’d taught Rick when they’d gone hunting for the first time. ‘You got it?’

Henry looks unsure and tries to copy him.

‘No,’ Daryl slowly starts to walk back to the Kingdom. ‘Up, up, as high as you can and then down, up, down. Deep breath before you start, hard as you can. Like this.’ His whistle is so hard that it causes the boy to wince. ‘Gotta practice, it’s got to travel through the trees. Come on. Try again.’

They whistle back and forth while walking through the woods. Daryl makes sure that the boy is always within arm’s reach of him so he can pull him behind himself if something happens. They see some walkers in the distance but the teenager puts his hand on the top of Henry’s head to steer his gaze away from them.

‘If they come closer, I’ll take care of it,’ Daryl mutters. ‘Don’t look.’

‘I’ve seen the damned before,’ Henry says as he looks up at the older boy. ‘I’m not scared!’

‘You should be. They ain’t no joke. One second is all it takes, so you always got to be a little scared so you stay on top of your game out here.’

‘Are you scared?’

Daryl nods without thinking about it. ‘Yeah. It’s better now ‘cause you’re here. Got to keep on top of my game for you, huh? Imagine how hard Ezekiel would whoop me if something happened to you.’

Henry giggles. ‘Hard.’

‘Real hard,’ Daryl grins back. ‘Do the whistle one more time. Good. It’s the signal that you need help. I use it with my people, and now you can teach yours.’ He puts his hands into the pockets of his jeans. ‘When I first came here, I was just like you; I wanted to kill them all. That ain’t no way of livin’. That ain’t _livin’_. You do what needs to be done in the end, but don’t go looking for it. And hate it once it’s done.’

‘Ezekiel taught you that?’

‘Ezekiel. Your brother. Yeah. Don’t let this world get into your head, kid. You got plenty of time to become the biggest, baddest warrior in town. Go swimming tomorrow or something. Do some kid’s stuff.’

The gate of the Kingdom is already open when they turn the last corner. A group of soldiers led by Ezekiel heads out, but the leader brings his hand to his heart when he spots the little blond boy walking next to Daryl. He tries to say something but words fail him.

‘He followed my ass around the forest,’ Daryl says with a shake of his head. ‘Sorry, didn’t knew it was him or I would have turned around sooner. Didn’t catch anything neither. He’s loud.’

Ezekiel nods but reaches for the boy. ‘Henry…’

‘I’m sorry,’ Henry mutters into the man’s chest.

‘We shall talk later,’ the King decides as he strokes the blond hair. ‘Thank Daryl for bringing you home safely.’

‘Thanks, Dare.’

‘You’re welcome,’ Daryl nods. ‘Leave the gate open, I’m heading out.’ He runs to where his bike is parked. Several people look up from their chores when it roars to life. Out in the distance, he sees how Beth stands up, one hand shielding her eyes from the sun. She’s standing in front of the doctor’s building which is slowly turning into a fully functional hospital. Her hand comes up.

He waves back at her before sliding into his seat fully. He pulls his black bandana out of back pocket and ties it around his face so it covers his nose and mouth. It hasn’t rained in a while now. The roads are dusty.

‘Will you return?’ Ezekiel asks.

‘Before nightfall,’ Daryl nods. ‘There’s something I gotta see.’

 

 

The whole house is trashed. Everything is covered in soot, dirt and dust. There’s grime in the sink, black smears on the walls, half-hand prints where people had pushed themselves away from the walls to get out of the house when the bombing had started. The couches have been ripped apart. The table and chairs are broken heaps of wood in the kitchen, all the artwork has been smashed, too.

He slowly walks through the living room and then heads up the staircase.

Saviors have written messages on the walls. Using soot and dirt, they’ve left their mark in the house Judith was supposed to grow up in. He tries not to read the words. Some are just smudges anyway and he pretends not to see _everything is his._ The door to Carl’s bedroom has been completely torn off, the one to Rick and Michonne’s has been on fire at some point. Judith’s is riddled with bullet holes.

He enters the girl’s nursery.

Dirty as well. The window has been shot out, there are bullets buried in the wall above the crib. So close to that safe space that it makes him sick to his stomach. He looks around. Footsteps in ashes from when Saviors tore through the house. It smells like stale urine here. He doesn’t want to see the stains on Judith’s pillows and blankets.

Carl’s room is a disaster, too. Comics have been torn apart, books flung around, posters torn down. The closet is almost empty, most of his clothes are gone and crude messages have been drawn on the wall here as well.

There is hardly anything left of Rick and Michonne’s room. Even the messages on the walls have already been blurred out by more soot and dirt. Daryl frowns and wonders whether Rick did that, but mostly wonders what it could have said. The messages are all terrible and nauseating, but nobody has bothered to remove the rest of them yet. There’s not a single thing left untouched in the room. Daryl slowly walks over broken glass and wood splinters, steps over shredded sheets and kicks some pieces of wood aside that have nails sticking out. He frowns when he spots a piece of rope sneaking out from under the closet door.

With a sense of dread, he opens it.

His insides go cold. There’s a pillow and blanket, folded and tied with ropes to make a human shape. It’s a doll. Almost as big as Daryl is, folded in a heap and shoved aside. He pulls it out and stares at it.

It’s wearing Carl’s clothes. Only one eye has been drawn properly, the other one is just a smear of red. There’s a rope around the neck.

Anger flashes through him at the thought that these are the people they are saving. He breathes through his nose and makes sure that the doll is hidden in the closet again before moving on. With a heavy heart, he pushes the door of his own bedroom open.

It hasn’t been touched.

It’s exactly like how he’d left it. His bed is still made, fluffy pillows waiting for him and enough blankets to keep him warm. The ashtray is in the windowsill, his comics on his nightstand. A couple of messed up bolts on the desk and clothes neatly stacked in his drawers. A couple of pencils litter the floor near his closet because that’s the last spot the sun will come in late in the evening, so he used to draw his portraits there in peace. Nothing is missing. There isn’t any dirt or grime, no soot from the great burning, no words written on his walls. It takes him a second to realize that someone has, in fact, been here. There’s a lump under one of his blankets, he realizes as he slowly walks over to the bed. He feels silly for letting his hand fall to his knife but he can’t stop the movement.

With a shaking hand, he draws the blanket back.

Judith’s doll. The one she used to sleep with. The one she always used to carry around and everyone knows to protect with their lives or else nobody would get any sleep.

He sits down on his bed and holds the doll. Did Michonne save it before they fled? Probably not. She would have just taken it with her if she had the time, she wouldn’t have hidden it in his room. She wouldn’t have known that his room, apparently, was the only thing that was off limits during the plundering and burning.

He runs his fingers through the fake hair.

A savior, then. Someone had seen the doll in the crib and had known. A dad. A mom. Someone’s older brother or sister. Someone who had cared enough to keep it safe from the rest of them.

He refuses to be thankful. Doing one right thing doesn’t wipe out the fact that they were here, and that they were a part of all of this. That they saved the doll but then probably watched how their friends rigged up another doll to look like Carl and hang it in Rick’s bedroom for him to find.

‘What are you doing here, monster?’

Daryl sighs and looks out of the window. ‘I don’t know.’

Merle walks into the room and sits down next to him. He watches how his younger brother puts the doll aside and roots around in a drawer. A grin spreads over his weathered face when he’s handed a cigarette.

‘Got a light?’

Merle frowns but digs around in his pocket. ‘Yeah. What happened to Will’s zippo?’

‘Beth still got it,’ Daryl leans forward and lets his own cigarette catch fire, sucking in the poison before walking to the window to open it. ‘Carol didn’t want me to smoke in my room. Least we can do,’ he says as he sits down in the windowsill. ‘Use the ashtray.’

‘Whole house is fucked up and you want me to use an ashtray?’

‘Use it, or get the fuck out of my room,’ Daryl mutters. He looks out of the window and still can’t believe the new view. Almost all of the buildings have been heavily damaged. Some have even collapsed in on themselves, they’re just piles of wood and brick now. The church has been burned to the ground. All the greenhouses have been destroyed. The broken glass shimmers in the sun. People are taking down the structures that are about to collapse. He can see Carl running around, shouting instructions while Rick and his crew drag beams out of the piles of rubble. Up ahead, another crew is working on the wall, rebuilding it closer to the tree line to expand Alexandria. More gates will be built as well, more towers next to them.

All the work had stopped the moment everyone heard his motorcycle roar, but Carl had quickly gotten their attention back when it became clear that nothing was wrong, and Daryl was only stopping by for a visit.

He’d been scared of coming down here. The last time he’d seen this place had been at the beginning of the war, when he and Tara had watched how Eric, Sherry and another woman were burned on the stakes. The shadow of Negan cast on the town by the devouring fire. The screams of his friend forever haunting him.

Merle leans forward to tap some ash into the dish. He gives his little brother a smug look.

Daryl isn’t as amused. ‘How the hell did you manage to wait two whole weeks anyway?’ he asks while watching his other brother rush to help his dad drag the beams to a safer spot so they can be reused. ‘Did Maggie threaten to take your balls or something?’

‘What the hell are you talkin’ about?’

‘After the war, you stayed at Hilltop for two weeks and then ran. Why? Ain’t no reason for you to be here. You’re no architect who had to help Rick draw up the plans, you ain’t no… builder? You could have stayed longer at Hilltop, but you left.’ He taps his ash into the tray, ‘hell, you could have stayed all together! Rick doesn’t need me. Rick doesn’t need you neither!’

Merle snorts. ‘He gonna rebuilt this place by himself now?’

‘Who made you stay for two weeks?’

‘Nobody, monster. What the hell. We’d decided at that goddamn meeting that we were gonna take two weeks. Like,’ he scratches at his chin, ‘for mournin’ ‘nd shit.’

‘For mourning and shit,’ Daryl repeats dryly.

‘Yeah.’

‘Right.’

Merle narrows his eyes. ‘What? You got a fucking problem or something? Come on then, spit it out and stop bein’ such a little bitch about it. You got something say, you say it.’

‘I think you’re a piece of shit sometimes.’

That makes his brother smirk. ‘That so, huh?’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl nods and then shrugs. ‘Guess you always were. Back in the day you didn’t even give a shit, like – imagine me draggin’ Judith to some dingy fucking bar and then acting like I’m the world’s best bro-‘

‘I’m gonna stop you right there,’ Merle growls as he stands up. ‘’Cause you can accuse me of a lot of shit, but me not giving a damn about you? From the day you were born, little brother, _from the day you were born_ , I kissed the ground you crawled around on, you hear me? And yeah – I might have dragged you out there and dumped you at the bar because I don’t fucking know how to raise a goddamn kid, but I dragged you out there when you could have been home with dad, so don’t tell me-‘

‘And then you ran!’

‘And I ain’t gonna apologize for it again!’ Merle snarls. ‘I fucked up. But I found you again, and I’m gonna fucking _try again_ , a’right? So keep your trap shut and-‘

‘No, _this_ time! You ran again!’

Merle frowns. He sucks and the cigarette. ‘What?’ he asks. ‘You think you’re the first Dixon Rick had to drag out of Negan’s cell or something?’ he laughs. ‘Nah, baby bro. You didn’t really think I ran to the goddamn Kingdom to be Rick’s building buddy, did ya?’

Daryl frowns, too. ‘No, I thought you ran because you didn’t want to deal with…’ he searches for the right words.

‘You.’ Merle says as he sits down in the windowsill as well. ‘Ain’t gonna lie, brother. All the shit that went down? Hmm-mm. Weren’t right for any grown man, sure as fuck weren’t right for you to see, or do. But you did it and then it all caught up with ya and – I didn’t know what to do. I ain’t like Rick or Maggie or Ezekiel –I don’t know how to make this right. Can make you laugh for two seconds, but other than that? I don’t know, bro. I just watched you a while and then thought; _fuck it. I’ll end it myself_. But you’re right about one thing. If they hadn’t threatened my balls, I would have tried to do it sooner.’

Daryl smirks as he lets his head rest against the window. ‘Maggie?’

‘Nah. Our Lord and Savior himself. That little spitfire,’ Merle snorts and ends his cigarette in the ashtray. ‘I think Maggie knew why I wanted to go.’

‘Maggie always knows.’

Merle smirks, ‘that’s because you’ve been giving away all our secrets for years now, monster. She knows a Dixon, a’rght. So… did the whole new world talk work on you? Yeah, Rick gave me one, too.’

‘I don’t know,’ Daryl admits, ‘but I think so. Maybe Carl more so, and there was this kid this morning, out in the woods, it just… clicked, I think. Like – I still want to do it, and if I get the chance I’ll fucking take that shot but… maybe not today, and not tomorrow, ya know?’

‘Yeah.’

‘What about you?’

Merle laughs softly. ‘I’m out here building, ain’t I? Kinda wish…’ he scratches at his cheek, ‘kinda wish I could have been the one who’d told you that shit, but we both know… Dixon’s, huh? Small hearts, big mouths, but what comes out ain’t always pretty or… _inspiring_.’

Daryl smirks. ‘Yeah.’

‘Was real good what you did this morning though, with Rick? Apologizing and shit? I could have never done that.’

‘Except if it were me, right?’

Merle reaches out and flicks his nose. ‘Maybe. I don’t know what you’re expecting here, monster. That I’m some sort of role model? I’m watching you smoke a cigarette right now, and that’s my two cents.’

Daryl snorts and ends the cigarette. ‘Right.’

‘You look at Maggie and Rick,’ Merle nods as he squeezes his brother’s knee. ‘They’re good people to look at. Ezekiel is a’right. And Jesus. And I ain’t talking about lookin’ at his ass.’

Daryl bats his hand away and laughs, ‘oh fuck you.’

‘What? I’m tryin’ to be supportive!’

‘By telling me to _not_ look at his ass?’

‘Gotta respect the man, not just drool over his goddamn ass, okay? Can’t just stare at some titties as they walk by, you gotta make a conversation even if it’s boring, take them out, all that shit before you can do the rest.’

Daryl laughs and tries to hide his face in the crook of his elbow, ‘ _stop_.’

‘I’m givin’ you _life advice_ and you’re ungrateful? And I’m talking about just _looking_ here, right? The rest – none of that until you’re eighty.’

‘You even _sound_ creepy.’

‘Tell it to Julia,’ Merle smirks as he gets up and swaggers out of the room. ‘She were lookin’ for another stallion to ride and found one right here.’

Daryl sits on the windowsill for a moment longer. ‘Gross,’ he whispers under his breath but then runs after his brother, taking the steps two at the time. ‘Merle! Wait up! How did you get her to talk to you then? _Wait_!’

 

 

It’s nightfall when he’s standing in front of the door.

He puts his crossbow on the ground. Then Paul’s knife.

‘Open it up,’ he says as he straightens.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Just open it up.’

The guard sighs and looks around nervously before unlocking the door and pulling it open. ‘Be quick about it,’ he hisses, ‘and don’t do anything. You promised.’

Daryl nods and walks into the room.

Negan smirks at him. ‘Hi, little prince,’ his head leans against the bars. ‘Back so soon?’

Daryl smirks back. ‘I missed ya.’

 

 

 


	9. Visiting hour

 

* * *

 

 

 

The man is sitting on the ground, in the corner of his cell. Back against the bars, long legs stretched out before him. The black boots are still missing but he’s wearing gray socks this time. His jeans are ripped at the knees. Daryl doubts it’s because of hard work. Dark eyes train on him for just a second, the man is smirking at hearing his own words bounced back at him. Then he looks down at the book he’s reading again, and flips a page.

‘Sure you did,’ he murmurs. ‘I would offer you a seat, but Rick’s probably scared you’ll break it and put a piece of wood through my heart because I don’t have one right now.’

‘Some vampire shit right there.’ Daryl leans against the wall and folds his arms in front of his chest.

‘You a fan of vampires?’

‘Fan of stabbing people in the heart.’

Negan smirks but doesn’t respond.

Daryl watches him read his book. He’s going through the lines quite quickly, no finger keeping his gaze in check either like he has to do sometimes, and Daryl almost asks him whether he has always liked to read or just picked up the habit because he has no choice now. There’s no other entertainment. Just a single book. It annoys him that the man disregards him this easily. He feels nervous and jittery being in his presence but Negan is calm and comfortable. That doesn’t seem fair. It should be the other way around.

‘Hey, asshole,’ Daryl says as he stomps his boot against the wall he’s leaning against.

Negan doesn’t react.

‘Hey, shitface!’

Negan marks his page and looks up with a sigh. ‘What do you want, killer?’

Daryl isn’t sure. He wants to prove something to Rick and Michonne, to Carl and Maggie and Beth. To the Saviors whispering behind his back, and everyone who is looking at him. He’s not sure what that something is, however. Restraint, maybe. Something that comes dangerously close to mercy. Or maybe he wants to prove that even broken things can be put back together given enough time and patience. That it is not too late for him, or anyone else, and that a new world might be possible if people like Carl hold the torch to light the way. And that he will follow his brother, before bowing to any monster in a cage.

Even if that cage is his own chest.

But there is something he wants from Negan, too. Not just his breath stocking or that heart finally going still in the palm of his hand – no. He wants to know how a man who has killed hundreds of people can sit in a cell and read a book. He wants to know why the pages aren’t sticking to his blood-soaked fingers, why there aren’t bags under his eyes because nightmares keep him up, or why he isn’t fuming and snarling to try and get it all back.

He’s just sitting there. Peacefully. And he manages to smile at something that happens between the lines.

‘What do you want?’ Negan repeats slowly.

‘I’ve been to Alexandria today. I saw the ruins. Everything was burned down or shot up, except for my room. There wasn’t a single thing out of place, - nobody even went into that room. Why?’

Negan gives him a lazy grin. ‘Because people fucking respect me. If I say something is off-limits, then I mean; it’s _off-limits_. One asshole tried, there’s always _one_ , you know? Oh – you know,’ Negan laughs. ‘Wiped his filthy boots all over your pretty cream carpet and I said; no. No, sir! He cleaned it up in the end. It was that, or Lucille. Most people pick the first option, thank God. You know the mess my girl likes to make? Imagine that in your pretty ass room. That just wouldn’t do.’

Daryl bites on the inside of his cheek. ‘No, _why_ save my room?’

‘Because it’s yours. And you, little prince, are mine. So that little piece of paradise you made for yourself in Rick’s home? That is mine, too.’

‘I thought everything was yours,’ Daryl sneers.

Negan laughs softly. ‘Very good, killer. Very good! It’s like…. Ah. The cap you’re still wearing, I got that for you. The woman at the market place – it was hers to sell until I wanted it. Then it became mine, just like that. That’s how it works. Rick could have kept his cute little village, but that gate is mine. Everything is mine when I want it. But if I have no need for it at the moment? He can play house and she can sell it to little princes who have no money but a rich dad.’ He grins. ‘Right?’

‘Her name is Venus.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘The woman at the marketplace. The woman who gave me the cap; her name is Venus.’

Negan scoffs. ‘I had hundreds of people under my care. Don’t try to shame me for not knowing all their names. But nice try, kid! Nice try.’ He turns back to his book but waves at Daryl with his hand. ‘Make yourself comfortable. Don’t just stand there.’

Daryl waits a couple of beats but then sits down. One leg stretched out but the other pulled up so he can hide behind his bend knee. He leans back against the wall he’d painted so long ago and misses how the smell of wet paint had penetrated his clothes, and how his fingers had been stained green instead of red. ‘’s rude to keep reading when we’re talkin’,’ Daryl murmurs as he rummages through his pockets to find his lighter and cigarettes. He sticks one between his lips and fumbles a bit with the plastic lighter, so used to just flipping his Zippo open that the metallic wheel gives him trouble. He manages in the end.

‘’s rude to try and give me second-hand cancer, you little asshole.’

‘They took my knife and bow, had to get creative.’

Negan laughs but still puts his book down.

Daryl looks at the title page. ‘Frankie’s allowed to see ya?’

The smile fades and is replaced by a puzzled expression. ‘What makes you think that?’

‘Who the hell else would give you a Western? It’s her favorite genre.’

‘You been havin’ a book club with my wives?’ Negan asks with a laugh as he inspects the book.

Daryl shrugs. ‘So what? They gave me books to read. Your place sucked, by the way. You didn’t even have any fucking comics.’

‘I didn’t know you liked them, or I would have gotten you some. But to answer your question; no, Frankie isn’t allowed to come see me. The only people I see are you, our dearest Rick and the guards. The guards never talk, but Rick won’t shut the hell up, so it’s okay. And he brought me the book, so maybe they have the same taste, or Frankie asked him to pass it along.’

Daryl plucks at the hole in his jeans and shrugs. ‘Whatever.’

Negan shifts so they’re facing each other directly, sitting on both ends of the room. ‘Hey.’ His tone is softer now and it makes the teenager look up. ‘Rick… he’s – he’s worried about you. You’re not doing anything stupid, right?’

Daryl takes a drag from his cigarette. ‘Like what?’

‘Like adding to that patchwork you got going on on your back and front and thighs.’

‘Nah,’ he flicks some ash aside and then scowls. ‘Ain’t none of your business anyway. Stop pretending to give a damn.’

‘Oh, I’m not pretending, little prince. I love the fuck out of you. It’s like I told Rick back when we were having a nice little chat at Alexandria; if I had a kid, I would want them to be just like you, killer. From that mean-ass glare down to the soft noises you made while sleeping on my couch; I’d want it all.’

Daryl blows the smoke up at the ceiling. ‘You said that two seconds before you were going to bash my skull in with Lucille.’

‘That doesn’t make it any less true.’

‘How does your brain even work? Goddamn,’ Daryl groans. ‘Do you even understand what it’s like to give a shit about someone?’

‘You’re not seeing the bigger picture here,’ Negan tells him. ‘The fact that I love you does _not_ erase the fact that you all were blowing up my people left right and center. Something had to be done. Lessons had to be learned. And yes, I’m willing to sacrifice _my_ happiness for the greater good of my people. So if that means splitting your pretty head wide open with Lucille to teach Rick not to mess with us again? You better say your last words quickly, boy, and make them count.’

The teenager smirks around his cigarette. ‘My dad was like that, in a way. _Lessons had to be learned_. And oh I learned, a’right.’ He takes the cigarette out of his mouth and looks at the glowing end of it. Red hot but fading into ashes quickly. ‘And I took it like a champ,’ he mutters before burning his own hand.

Negan is up in a flash. He rattles the bars and roars, ‘ _cut that out_!’

‘His name was Will,’ Daryl tells the man while he inspects his wound. It will scar. ‘He didn’t love me when I was born, but did when I was the only one left. We lived outside of Atlanta. The town was a’right, I guess, but we were on the wrong side of the tracks. I didn’t care. Thought it was pretty bad-ass even.’

‘Of course you did,’ Negan says softly. ‘Show me your hand.’

‘It took the goddamn apocalypse and half my friends dying to figure out that that ain’t love. Or how you fucking learn anything.’ Daryl gets up and walks over to the cell. He holds out his hand. ‘Glenn tried to tell me, way in the beginning. I remember it, even though I didn’t believe him at the time. _That isn’t how we learn_ , he’d say every time it would happen. But it was.’

Negan gently takes his hand in his and inspects the wound. ‘I’m sorry, killer.’

‘I ain’t. Made me who I am today,’ Daryl twists his hand free and grabs Negan’s shirt, pulling him against the bars. ‘And you try to fuck with my head again, I’ll end you. You hear me? No more nicknames. No more pretending to give a shit. And you’ll stop talking to Rick about me. You don’t know me.’

Negan doesn’t fight him. He just smiles down at him. ‘I think I do.’

Daryl scoffs. ‘I ain’t thirteen years old, you asshole. I’m not that little boy you took from his family.’

‘’course you aren’t,’ Negan smirks. ‘You really think I believed that? You were a great little actor for a while, but everyone knew you were just pretending to be this cute-ass kid. There’s something _wrong_ with you, boy.’ He reaches out slowly and touches Daryl’s face. ‘Because you can pretend all you want…. But I love you, and you _want_ this.’ His thumb brushes over the teenager’s cheek. ‘You miss it - _me_. It’s not your fault. Hey,’ he speaks with a voice so soft and kind that it make Daryl shiver. The fingers on his face, however, suddenly squeeze his cheeks together, digging his own flesh into his teeth to make it hurt. ‘It’s not your fault. You were raised to love this – to _need_ this, and it’s okay, little prince. Just – just give in.’

Daryl remembers looking up at Shane with tears in his eyes and wanting that belt so badly that he was begging for it. He understands why Merle will always feel like home because his tongue can be as vicious as the lashes were, and sometimes he needs that more than Maggie’s gentle understanding.

‘No – ‘cause it’s fucked up,’ Daryl says as he jerks his chin out of the man’s grip but still let his forehead rest against the bars. ‘Ain’t playin’ those games no more. With no-one.’

Negan steps closer to him so he’s pressed up against the bars

Daryl almost misses the smell of leather. ‘I’m going to kill you one day,’ he promises as he steps to the side and lets his forehead rest against Negan’s chest.

‘Of course you will,’ Negan puts an arm around his shoulder and kisses the top of his cap. ‘Little prince.’

‘Yeah. That dumb-ass nickname. You know what? That’s _exactly_ who I’m going to be,’ he murmurs as Negan plays with the hair at the back of his neck. ‘Carl’s got this… idea. Like – the New World, right? What comes after. We’re going to get it all back. There’s gonna be cities and trade and… stuff. I don’t know, _communities_. Alexandria, the Kingdom, Hilltop colony, Oceanside. We’re going to rebuild everything and it’s going to be a New World. And a New World order.’

Negan hums softly.

‘And Carl’s gonna lead Alexandria,’ Daryl says as he looks up at the man. ‘And Maggie Hilltop. Cyndie Oceanside. Maybe Jayla will sort everything out here, who knows.’

‘What about you? You could be a king.’

Daryl scoffs. ‘That’s the difference between you and I. I know I’m too fucked up to lead anything. Your people wouldn’t be alive if I had my way. You’d be burning on a stake for everyone to see. So everyone will know what I do to the people who take from me.’

Negan grins. His white teeth flash. ‘Is that so?’

‘Yeah. You owe Rick your life, but if it were up to me? There wouldn’t be a New World. I thought it all ended here. Right here, with us. But it won’t, of course, because… there are children being born,’ he says with a small, proud smile. ‘And I’m going to be a big brother soon, and there are still people out there. There have to be. It doesn’t end here.’

‘This new world you’re talking about? That was the Sanctuary. We were Saviors.’

‘No,’ Daryl shakes his head. ‘Yeah – Saviors of your own damn hides. We’ll try again, and we’ll get it right.’

Negan looks at him with dark eyes. ‘Fine. So why are you here?’

‘I want you to know that everything you fought for has failed. Every single thing,’ Daryl says as he takes a step away from the bars. ‘Your damn Sanctuary has fallen, your Saviors are free now, and we’re moving on. Without you. And you’re going to sit here and rot until the end of your days, and when you draw your last breath? Oh, I’ll be there,’ he promises. ‘Because before you can release it – I’ll end you. Because I am going to kill you. Not today, not tomorrow,’ he nods, 'but I’m going to kill you in the end.’

Negan laughs softly and shakes his head. ‘You really think I’m going to stay in this cell forever? Rick and I made a deal.’

‘See?’ Daryl laughs, too. ‘This ain’t going to work no more! You’re done. I’m not playin’ anymore. I know Rick, and you’re going to spend the rest of your life behind bars and you’re going to watch us conquer this goddamn New World, and _you’re never going to be a part of any of it_!’

‘The deal is that-‘

‘I don’t want to know about your goddamn made-up fake-ass _deal_ , okay? The only promise he could have possibly made is that he’ll look after your people, and that’s fine, because they’re no longer yours. They’re not anyone’s, anymore. And neither am I. I’m gonna be my own person.’

Negan looks like he’s about to say something, but then he changes his mind. One arm comes up to lean against the bars, pale fingers curling around them absent-mindedly. ‘Good,’ he says and it almost looks like he means it. Dark eyes follow Daryl as the teenager walks around the room, fingers tracing his own artwork on the walls. ‘How’s the widow doing?’

‘Her name is Maggie.’

Negan rolls his eyes behind the boy’s back. ‘How’s _Maggie_?’

‘Fine.’

‘What about the kid? Boy or a girl?’

‘Stop pretending to care.’

Negan smirks. ‘Just making conversation here,’ he laughs. ‘Since you seem to want to stick around for a while longer. I can’t blame you. We’re having _so_ much fun.’

‘How do you sleep at night?’

The man blinks. ‘What?’

Daryl walks back to the cell. ‘ _How do you sleep at night_?’ he asks, drawing out the words.

The already dark eyes turn black as Negan sneers at him. ‘Easy now, little prince. Thought we were done discussing how awful I am, but if you want to keep going then-‘

‘No. It’s a serious question!’

‘I close my eyes and go to fucking sleep!’

‘But _how_? You did all these things, right? You did things and you’re just – you’re just _sitting_ here, fucking chillin’ like there ain’t nothing wrong! How the hell do you close your eyes and not see Glenn tellin’ Maggie he’ll see her again? Or – or – why don’t Eric’s screams keep you up at night? Huh? Do you even know who that was? _Eric_?’

The look on Negan’s face softens. ‘ _You_ have nightmares,’ he says.

Daryl bites on his lip. ‘Yeah…’

‘Ah, little prince,’ the man says softly. He sounds sorry.

‘It’s getting better but it won’t go _away_.’

Negan nods his understanding. ‘You’ve had them before, right?’

Daryl glares at him. ‘Yeah.’

‘What made it go away?’

‘Go fuck yourself!’

‘No, now _I’m_ serious. What made it go away?’

Daryl kicks against the bars with his boot. ‘You,’ he admits. ‘I hate you, you piece of shit. You’re lucky I don’t have the key right now, or I’d fucking end you! You’re why everyone is all fucked up now!’

‘Really?’ Negan doesn’t sound too impressed but lets it slide. ‘You wanna hear my secret? Fine. Listen up, little prince. _I. Am. Not. Sorry_. Because no matter what _you_ think,’ he pokes the teenager in the forehead, ‘I did it for my people. Every fucked up thing I’ve done? Water under the fucking bridge by now. I did it for my community, for my wives, and yeah – for myself. To survive. To fucking thrive in this world. So yeah, I remember this Glenn with his disgusting fucking eye just popping out and trying to tell his wife something – sorry, telling _Maggie_ something. And no, I don’t fucking know who the hell Eric is, but going by your description? We roasted him like a fucking pig, right? And he fucking _squealed_.’

Daryl grits his teeth and glares at the man who’s leaning closer now.

‘And I’m _fine_ with that,’ Negan whispers between them, 'but you already knew that, right? Because there are tall tales being told around this place about a boy and a machete in a church. And you slept like a fucking baby afterwards, right? _Right_? Rick says you laughed, even.’

Daryl swallows thickly.

‘So make your peace with it,’ Negan advises. ‘And stop living with their ghosts, because you’re stuck right now. You’re not going to kill me because you’re suddenly the bigger man, right? Because Rick told you not to, to what? Save your fucking soul or some shit like that? That’s fine, little prince. That’s all good, because ending me doesn’t stop this.’ He reaches out and taps at Daryl’s temple.

‘How do you make peace with something like that?’

‘Because it was either you or them. Because it’s over. Because your lord spoke to you in your goddamn dreams and forgave you – I don’t fucking care, kid. Pick one, and go live your goddamn life. Go be Maggie’s right-hand man, be Carl’s little bitch or Rick’s fucking lap-dog. Just – come back once in a while to rage here some, huh?’ he smiles and reaches out, cold fingers stroking over the teenager’s cheek. ‘Tell me how that New World is coming along.’

Daryl works his jaw. ‘Yeah.’

‘Yeah,’ Negan echoes. Then he grabs hold of his chin and drags him closer. He kisses his forehead. ‘Now fuck off and let me read my goddamn book. I was at the fucking _climax_!’ he wiggles his eyebrows and then laughs, letting go of Daryl to sit back down in his corner.

Daryl shakes his head and heads to the door.

‘Hey, little prince!’

He looks back.

‘Who are you?’

‘Daryl Dixon.’

Negan grins. He opens his book. ‘Yeah, you are.’

 

 

The room is dusty and he thinks he might have been the only person who ever went in here after it had been searched for walkers. The white tables are still standing in neat rows, the smell exactly the same. The door to the closet is open which probably means he forgot to close it the last time he was here. He roots through the drawers of every cabinet, searches the desk and makes himself laugh by how excited he is to find out that the markers for the white board haven’t dried out completely. He throws his backpack onto one of the tables and starts grabbing stuff he wants.

Pencils. Paint. Brushes. Notebooks. Erasers. Colored pencils. Sharpeners. A ruler. A box with charcoal, blending stumps and-

It doesn’t even fit.

He rubs at his chin and sniffs, looking around the room.

The sunshine is hazy through the dirty windows. It’s pleasantly warm here. He likes the artwork on the walls. The ones made by students, some clumsy and some with obvious talent, and the ones framed and by famous artists. There’s a picture of a ceiling somewhere and he thinks it must be a famous sight. A recreation of the last supper, and graffiti captured in a shiny photograph of a rainy street that looks foreign to him.

He leaves the backpack behind.

It’s late in the afternoon, so he hopes that Ezekiel is already done.

‘Dare!’

He looks up as he crosses the main square and sees that Rick is already back. The man is standing with the guard who had granted him entrance to Negan’s cell, so he doesn’t have to wonder what Rick wants from him.

The teenager holds up his hands in surrender. ‘What? He’s still alive! Catch you later, Rick, gotta talk to Ezekiel!’

It bums him out that Ezekiel is not yet done holding court. There’s still a short line of people waiting in the hallway to be let into the auditorium. Most of them seem surprised to see him, though some quickly look away. Saviors. He ignores them.

‘Li- Daryl? You can go ahead,’ one of them at the front says while nervously scratching at his elbow. ‘You can cut the line, I don’t mind-‘

‘I’m fine waitin’.’

‘No, really, you-‘

‘I’m fine waiting,’ he says, trying to stay calm as he leans against the wall and stares at his boots. ‘Thank you,’ he manages to get out.

It takes a while for the conversations to start up around him again. They’re talking about the harvest and runs that need to be made to certain parts of the country. How one of the horses had gotten hurt when a walker spooked it. That maybe the King would have an answer on whether or not they should resume choir practice now that the mourning period is over.

He waits patiently for his turn and is glad when Jerry beams at him.

‘My dude!’ he greets, pulling the teenager close for a hug. ‘What are you doing here, man? You know you can just walk in anytime!’

‘Waiting my turn like everybody else. I got a favor to ask the King.’

Jerry laughs as he leads him down the aisle, thumping him on the back. ‘Sure!’

‘You have a favor to ask the King?’ Ezekiel smiles as he gets up from his throne and puts aside his cane. ‘Feel free.’

‘At the Eastside of your  - There’s…’ Daryl rolls his eyes and jumps onto the stage, ‘you know the art building, right? At the east side? I snuck in once while I were stayin’ here, stole some paint and shit, remember?’

Ezekiel hides his amusement better than Jerry, who whispers _’dude_!’ before snickering.

‘I remember,’ the King nods.

‘Ok, cool,’ Daryl grins. ‘I was kinda wondering – ‘cause I were stealing some more stuff just now and it didn’t all fit into my backpack… err..’

Ezekiel lifts an eyebrow, ‘do continue.’

Jerry groans and laughs at the same time.

‘I mean – I wasn’t stealing it _yet_.’

‘I understand,’ Ezekiel nods while Jerry motions that he needs to stop talking.

‘Whatever! What’re you gonna do with paint and paper, anyway? It’s been sitting there for years and nobody has even been inside that part of your realm, right? It’s even inside the walls, like – what? So… I was wondering if it would be all right if… Like – I mean, Rick’s gonna move back to Alexandria as soon as he can, and some are going back to Hilltop, so they won’t be using the house no more, so I thought, you know…’

‘Daryl,’ Ezekiel says kindly. ‘State your business. It’s been a long day.’

‘Right, sorry,’ the teenager scratches at the back of his neck. ‘Can I have one of the rooms in the art department? I want to be a messenger, and I’d .. I’d like to have a room here, to stay at…. If that’s okay with you. Sir,’ he adds hastily. ‘I mean – your majesty.’

Ezekiel’s eyebrows shoot up. ‘You want me to grand you a room at the Kingdom?’

‘Like… _that_ room. But yeah. I mean, I can share it! Of course I can share it with people, it doesn’t have to be my room alone, but... if they could leave the art stuff and maybe I could use it when I’m here, then... you know? That’d be kinda cool of them.’ He scratches at his cheek. ‘But I can room with Jayla if you don’t want to give it to me, or someone else wants it or something... Never mind, it was kinda stupid of me to ask so-‘

‘Daryl Dixon,’ Ezekiel says sharply, cutting him off. ‘The room is yours.’

‘Really?’

‘Really,’ Ezekiel smiles, eyes soft. ‘It’s been a long time since you’ve blessed us with your artwork and I would be honored if you’d consider the Kingdom your home away from home, so I will grand you your request. But I have a request as well.’

 

 

It’s almost midnight when Daryl hears a noise on the stairs. He looks up to see Michonne standing there, dressed in a white nightgown and a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She’s barefooted and her eyes are small as she blinks against the light of the candle.

The teenager sits up at the kitchen table, unsure of what to say.

‘What are you doing?’ Michonne asks, voice rough from sleep.

‘I’m sorry. I’ll put the candle out.’

The woman pads down the last couple of steps and then walks into the kitchen to sit down next to him. ‘I didn’t say you had to. I asked you what you were doing.’

Daryl shrugs and then fidgets with his pencil. ‘I was sketching.’

‘Oh? Can I see?’

‘Yeah… Guess…’ Daryl nudges the notebook over to her. He’d been thrilled when Ezekiel had given him the room, but it needs some work before he can actually use it. Tomorrow he will start cleaning it from top to bottom before organizing all the art supplies and arranging where he can sleep. For now, he likes sleeping in this house because most of his family members are still here.

‘Gorgeous,’ Michonne says as she flips through the pages.

‘Ezekiel asked me to draw one, as payment for a room I’ll get here. Do you think it looks okay? It’s just a sketch though! So, it’s not perfect, I know that, but…’

‘It looks just like her.’ Michonne looks sad as she looks at Carol’s portrait. ‘I like that she’s laughing.’

‘’s how I remember her.’

‘That’s good.’

‘Yeah.’ He shifts in his seat nervously and pulls the sketchbook back. He flips it to one of the last pages. ‘I visited Negan today. I just – I don’t know why, really. It’s kinda… weird, but…’

Michonne puts a hand on the back of his chair. ‘Do you miss him?’ she asks softly.

Daryl shrinks in his seat. ‘ _No_! No fucking way! What the hell?’

‘Dare,’ she takes his cap off and runs her fingers through his hair so she can push some strands behind his ear. ‘Be honest with me.’

He bites on his lip. ‘No. Like – no… Just… It’s so fucked up, I don’t – ‘ he takes a deep breath. ‘Okay. So.. back in Atlanta, I thought I’d lost my dad, right? They’d left him on the roof, so I was all alone. So... Shane kinda took care of me like a… like... how a dad would, kinda, okay?’

Michonne smiles encouragingly. She knows the stories and she’d seen how Rick’s partner had acted around the boy. Father and son, she’d thought from the second she’d seen them together. Blood.

‘And then Will came back for a while and he died… and then Shane died and it was Glenn, lookin’ after me. Always joked about it with Enid, you know? That he’d just adopt you without telling you. Or askin’. So… I always had people to… I dunno… This is dumb, you don’t care, I’m going to bed.’

She grabs hold of his arm and forces him back into his seat. ‘This is not dumb and I do care. You’ve always had father figures to look up to. Will, Shane and Glenn. That’s why you like Ezekiel so much. And it’s what Negan pretended to be at the Sanctuary. And you miss that feeling of having someone who looks after you the way Shane and Glenn did.’

He bites on his fingernail. ‘Yeah… And it’s stupid because like, I have Maggie, you know? And Merle’s still around, and... sometimes Rick kinda bosses me around so…’ he shoots her a cheeky grin despite his nerves and is glad that she chuckles.

She strokes his hair again. ‘It’s okay that Negan means something to you. That you… care about him in a sense and-‘

‘I don’t give a shit about him!’

‘Dare,’ she sighs and gives him a sad smile. ‘You do, because he protected you inside that place and sometimes we get… confused. That’s _okay_ , but I… I’d- ‘she searches for the right phrasing. ‘I would really like to ask you; please don’t visit him again. He’s _not_ a good person and… he changes you. This hold he has on you? It’s not good for you. You need to let it go, you need to let him go and just…’

‘Live my own life, right?’

‘Yes. Let Rick deal with Negan.’

‘Okay.’

She raises her eyebrows.

‘What?’

‘Is that a Dixon _okay_ , or … ?’

‘What are you sayin’?’ Daryl laughs, ‘I’m always bullshitting you now or something?’

‘No! No,’ Michonne laughs, ‘I’m sorry. You’re… you’re getting better at being honest.’

‘Oh my God,’ the teenager groans. ‘I lie about staying up and reading comics _one time_!’

‘ _One time_?’

Daryl chuckles and swats at her hand. ‘Leave me alone. Good lord.’ He fidgets with his notebook for a moment. ‘Is it okay if I draw some more?’

Michonne glances at the candle. ‘Until it burns out, then straight to bed.’

‘Okay,’ he quickly turns back to his sketches and starts drawing again. After a second he realizes that his friend is still sitting beside him, watching him. ‘What?’ he asks.

‘Nothing,’ she gets up. ‘I’m just happy you’re drawing again. Good night, Picasso.’

‘Night Mich.’

She tickles the back of his neck while she walks past him, heading back upstairs.

He turns back to his sketch. When he hears the last step creak, he turns back to the final sketch he’d been working on.

It’s Will, sitting on the hood of their old truck, with Atlanta burning in the background. He’s smoking, a crooked grin pulling at his lips, and there’s a bottle in his left hand.

The candle burns out.

He stands up and looks down at his paper in the dark. Then he crosses the image out with vicious, black slashes.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for the comments, they always make my day!  
> 


	10. Sit still, brother

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

‘-but it wouldn’t make sense no more! He has a bunch of money, a mansion, a cave, like… shit like that don’t mean nothing no more. So he’s just a guy wearing a cape now. He doesn’t have – like, Wolverine is the shit, man. I wanna be him. Fuck Batman.’

‘Okay,’ Carl agrees. ‘Fuck Batman, but Wolverine? You can be _anyone_!’

Daryl sneers at his brother, ‘bet you wanna be Captain America, you goody-two-shoes.’

Carl scowls at his boots which lets Daryl know that he was right.

‘You pussy,’ he laughs as they cross the main square. It’s one of the days that Michonne decided should be a rest day for the Alexandria crew. If it were up to Rick, they’d be there twenty-four seven, working hard to clear the first houses and fix his own but it has taken longer than expected to get the wall back up to full strength. The area isn’t secure yet and Michonne has put her foot down.

Daryl had gotten up before dawn as usual to do his work-out routine with Rosita, but the woman had gone back to bed afterwards while he’d done his chores around the Kingdom. Helping to feed the horses and saddle them for the guards who would go on patrol, bringing Beth breakfast after her nightshift, running errands for Ezekiel.

No-one had needed his help in the afternoon, he suspects the King had a say in that, so he’d been out exploring with Carl. They’d stayed within the walls for Rick’s peace of mind, though the man had still yelled at them when he’d spotted them climbing on top of the highest building in the Kingdom. It had been a bet between them of course. Carl hadn’t thought he’d be able to reach the top, and Daryl had called him a little bitch to make his brother follow him up.

Now they’re just wandering around to kill time before dinner.

‘I thought you’d want to be Hawkeye,’ Carl says as he shoves Daryl’s shoulder to change directions. They’re heading over to the place where the banquet will be held. Ezekiel wants his community to eat together as often as possible. He says it promotes working together and community spirit. Afterwards, people will enjoy the choir and sit around fire pits to share stories. It reminds Daryl a lot of the first time he’d ever been to the Kingdom.

‘I’m already Hawkeye, the hell are you talkin’ about?’ the youngest Dixon snorts. ‘Yo Jasper,’ he calls out when he spots one of the royal guards who is currently off duty. The man is carrying a stack of plates towards the long table. ‘Can we help?’

‘Oh – hey, Daryl. No, we’re fine. Thanks for the offer though.’

Carl wrinkles his nose. ‘We can set the table for you or something?’

‘Really, we’re fine,’ Jasper smiles. ‘You’ve done more than enough already.’

Daryl shrugs and saunters away again to look for something else to do.

Carl follows him with a creased brow. He glances over his shoulder at the guard who still has to set up every single table. ‘What makes him say that? You’ve done more than enough already?’

‘I don’t know, man. I mean, I went huntin’ yesterday for this thing but… whatever. Want to hang out with Jayla some? Her classes ended early today so she might be home. We can cut through-‘

‘ _Daryl_!’

Both brothers stop and turn to see a girl hurrying after them. She’s about their age, with rosy cheeks and dark blonde hair. A single white flower sits behind her ear. A lily, Daryl recognizes. Her eyes are dark blue. They shine when she beams at the Dixon.

‘Hi,’ Daryl says when she reaches them. She’s a friend of Jayla, but he’s not sure about her name.

‘Hi,’ she echoes. Color rushes up her neck to her cheeks and ears. ‘Err-‘ she glances at Carl awkwardly before holding out a small package to Daryl. ‘Here – for you. We used your game to make pies and – well, I got you one. We’re going to serve them at dinner, too, but… it’s still warm now. I thought you’d like it.’

Daryl takes the package. Only now does he recognize that it’s parchment paper. He folds it open and sees a freshly baked meat pie. There’s still steam coming off of it. ‘Oh! Thanks.’

‘You’re welcome,’ she smiles and pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Thank you for staying out so late to catch game yesterday. I hope it was worth it.’

‘Yeah… er.. no problem.’ He glances at his brother who is smirking at his boots. ‘Are you sure it’s okay we take this? We can wait for dinner if it’s-‘

‘No, it’s okay,’ she says hastily. ‘I made it for you. We have enough for the rest but…’ she gives him another smile and bounces on the balls of her feet. ‘I thought you might like this one. Maybe I’ll see you at dinner?’

‘Sure.’

‘Okay then! Bye, Daryl. Oh- bye, Carl.’

‘Yeah, bye,’ Carl laughs as the girl skips away and Daryl just waves lamely. ‘What the hell are you doing? Playing hard to get now?’

‘The fuck you’re talking about?’ Daryl snorts as he starts walking again. ‘What did she mean with that she made it just for me? Think it only got guts in it or something? I didn’t clean the kills yesterday night, man. I was fucking tired, got back after dark ‘nd everything. Merle almost tanned my hide. You think they were mad they had to clean them first thing in the morning or something?’

Carl stops walking and lifts an eyebrow.

‘What?’

‘Look at it!’

Daryl looks at the pie in his hands. ‘What? I can’t see what’s inside!’

‘Are you serious right now?’ Carl laughs. ‘Look at it, you dumbass. _Look_!’  he walks over and points at the small holes poked into the dough to let the steam out. He traces the shape. ‘It’s a heart. And _aaahw_ ,’ he coos, ‘she made it for you!’ He reaches out to pinch Daryl’s cheek.

Daryl stares at the pie and can feel how the tips of his ears glow red. ‘Whatever, man,’ he murmurs before continuing to walk towards the block where Jayla has her room. It’s hard to ignore Carl’s sniggers but he tries anyway. He’s relieved when he spots Judith and Michonne out of the corner of his eye. The little girl is holding onto the woman’s pinky as they wander through the Kingdom. Her face lights up when she spots her brother.

‘Car!’ she shouts before looking up for permission.

Michonne nods at her.

Judith squeals and starts running towards them.

‘Judy!’ Carl beams and sinks to one knee, holding out his arms so he can catch her in a big hug. He pretends to munch on her cheek before kissing it soundly, lifting her onto his hip. She plants a sloppy kiss somewhere around his ear and then tries to steal the sheriff’s hat.

‘No, that’s mine,’ Carl laughs. ‘You can have it once it actually fits, doofus. You’ll lose it otherwise. Stop!’

‘Here,’ Daryl plucks the black baseball cap from his head and plops it onto Judith’s curls. ‘It’s way cooler anyway.’

‘Is not!’

‘Totally is.’

Judith seems happy with the arrangement regardless and wriggles around in Carl’s arms to get to Daryl.

Daryl leans in to kiss the side of her head, ‘sorry, can’t carry you right now, kicker, but hey.’

‘What’s going on here?’ Michonne asks as she reaches the two teenagers. Her gaze flickers down to the pie in Daryl’s hands and she smiles when he hurriedly wraps it back up in the parchment paper to hide the heart.

‘Nothing,’ he says quickly.

‘Just Dare casually charming every girl he sees today,’ Carl grins.

‘Is that so?’ Michonne sounds highly amused.

‘Shut your damn mouth,’ Daryl hisses at his brother. ‘I didn’t do nothing!’

‘Girls are baking him pies now.’

‘Jesus Christ – _good lord_! Whose best friend are you?’

Carl grins and hitches Judith higher. ‘Michonne’s. You’re my brother.’ He hesitates for a moment and then glances at the woman, ‘right?’

Michonne grins back at him and reaches out to fix the sheriff’s hat. ‘That’s right.’

Daryl pretends to throw up and stumbles away from them, retching and pressing a hand to his mouth. ‘I’m gonna be sick, ugh. _Ugh_! Excuse me, so sorry, just pukin’ my guts out over there. Too sweet. _Ugh_! You coming, or you busy suckin’ up over there? She ain’t got no more chocolate bars or comics to trade with us, you know that, right?’

‘Maybe you can tell some girls that you have a sweet tooth,’ Carl laughs as he squeezes Michonne’s lower arm before following the Dixon. ‘They’ll come running.’

‘Shut up, man.’ He’s glad when Carl actually drops the subject, probably because he’s too focused on his little sister. They make faces at each other and Judith babbles about something Daryl doesn’t understand but Carl nods encouragingly.

They reach the blocks where most of the people from the Kingdom live. It used to be the part of campus where most of the students lived, small dorms now occupied by broken families and newly formed ones. It’s busier here. People are coming home from their jobs to change their dirty clothes for the King’s meal. Everything quiets when Daryl and Carl approach, however. People are watching them closely. Daryl is the first to notice because he’s always wary of people’s reactions to him. There’s no fear in their eyes, and no hatred either. Some kids wave enthusiastically, and he sees how grown men jab each other in the side before gesturing towards the teenagers.

‘Dare?’ Carl asks, sounding wary.

‘I dunno, man,’ Daryl says but he’s glad that Carl moves Judith to his other hip. It frees his right hand. The one with which he shoots.

‘Hey Dare!’ one of the soldiers greets and the people sitting around him giggle.

‘Yeah – ‘sup Joey,’ Daryl answers which causes another ripple of laughter.

‘Hey, Carl!’

Carl frowns, ‘hey, Joey.’

Daryl glances over his shoulder once they’ve passed the little group and catches Joey’s words. ‘See?’ the man laughs, ‘they totally know who I am! We’re friends! I was in Carl’s group during the final battle, so…’

Daryl runs up the staircase and kicks against Jayla’s door, glancing warily at the group of women sitting in front of their doors. They throw him a friendly smile which grows wider when they spot Judith. He’s glad when Jayla opens the door. ‘Yo, let us in, girl. Move,’ he says as he pushes past her.

‘Excuse you? Of course you can come in,’ she holds onto the doorframe and moves to the side. ‘Hey Carl, come in. Oh! Is that Judith? So cute, _hi_! Hi, missy.’

‘Will you close the goddamn door?’ Daryl hisses as Carl slips past them to head into the tiny bedroom.

‘If it’s not going fast enough for you, do it yourself,’ Jayla snaps but she closes the door anyway and then makes her way back to the bedroom. She doesn’t have her crutches with her and has to use the wall for support, hopping towards the bed.

‘Sorry, girl,’ Daryl mutters as he ducks under her arm to help her, pulling it over his shoulder so she can use him to stay upright.

She pushes him away. ‘If I need help, I’ll ask for it. I can navigate my own apartment just fine, thank you. What’s gotten into you? You’re ruder than usual. And my name is _Jayla_. Not _girl_. You sound like your brother when you say stuff like that.’

Carl snorts. ‘Can we sit on the bed?’

‘Sure, Carl.’

‘ _Sure, Carl_ ,’ Daryl mimics in a high-pitched voice. ‘Pfft. Goddamn. You got any – what the hell, we don’t even need any plates.’ He jerks his hunting knife out of the holster and throws the pie onto the table. ‘Want some?’

Jayla ignores him and looks at Carl. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘People were acting weird. They were staring – he hates that. He’s pissed, don’t mind him.’

‘Oh,’ Jayla sits down beside him on the bed. ‘Yeah, there’s been a roster change. You know we have the farm, way out in the last quadrant?’

Daryl hums and Carl nods. The Kingdom has a couple of outer buildings, such as the farm. Some are just used as safe houses while others actually house people and animals. The farm is one of those sites.

‘Ezekiel had evacuated people to the farm during the war. They’re back now. Women, children, mostly. I guess the fighters are boasting about how they fought side by side with Alexandria. They’re telling tall tales.’

‘Assholes, all of them,’ Daryl mutters as he cuts the small pie in equal pieces. Then he grabs a towel and puts it over Judith’s lap before giving her her piece. ‘There you go, Judy, eat up!’

‘Thank you,’ Jayla smiles when she gets her piece. ‘So you ran into Lilly then?’

‘Why?’ Daryl grabs his own piece and sits down on the floor.

Carl groans and gets up while flipping his brother of for not giving him his share.

‘ _Ooh_ ,’ Jayla says as she pretends to swoon. ‘I’m going to bake Daryl a pie! He’s going to love it – she means _me_ but she said _it_. _Ooh_!’ she flips her curls over her shoulder and bats her eyelashes at Judith. ‘Girl, do you think I should call him Dare, or Daryl? Does this shirt look a’right on me? I’m going to sit at his table tonight! _Oooh_!’ she giggles and taps Judith’s nose when the little girl laughs. Then she turns back to Daryl. ‘If I need to listen to how blue your eyes are one more time, I’m going to set something on fire. Some girls think you’re kinda cute. You know - the blind ones? They know we’re friends so they won’t stop harassing me, offered goods and services for some information about _the mysterious archer from Alexandria_.’

Daryl frowns. He munches on his pie. ‘You told them shit about me?’

‘No.’

‘ _Jayla_.’

‘What? Fine. I told them you liked classical music in exchange for a piece of cake.’

Carl perks up, ‘where’s the cake?’

Daryl nearly chokes on his pie. ‘ _Classical_  music?’

‘I ate it,’ Jayla tells Carl. ‘What? I had to make something up!’

‘No, you didn’t! You could have just kept your trap shut!’

‘But then I wouldn’t have cake,’ Jayla laughs. ‘You should be glad I didn’t tell them to be a bit more like Jesus.’

‘Or you,’ Daryl says with a small grin.

On the bed, Carl splutters and then pretends to throw up. ‘How does nobody see what kind of a dork you are? That was bad, brother. That was _bad_. Next time just finger-gun her down, man, and get it over with.’

‘That wasn’t bad!’ Daryl objects, ‘oh – so you have a girlfriend and now you’re a goddamn expert? I’m slick, bro! _Slick_! Tell him, Jay! That was not bad.’

‘That was not bad,’ Jayla allows with a laugh. ‘You made great steps, Daryl. The first time you couldn’t even talk to me. Remember that? Did you ever hear that story, Carl? No? Oh let me-‘

‘Jayla, no, please,’ Daryl laughs as he hides behind his own knees, curling into a little ball of shame. He groans softly as she tells the story, ears glowing red and only looking up when Judith claims his lap as a better seat.

 

 

Everyone is looking at them. Daryl is glad that he can hide behind Beth and Tara as they find a table to sit at. There are amazed whispers in the air, people’s eyes going wide as Rick leads his small group over to the free seats. The man is carrying his daughter on his hip and has a hand on his son’s shoulder as he glances around warily. It’s only when Carl whispers something to him that Rick straightens his back more and ignores the new people.

Daryl slides into his seat and curls his shoulders inwards to appear to be smaller than he actually is.

‘I’m gonna go sit with Julia,’ Merle says as he flicks the baseball cap. ‘You okay here, monster?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘You don’t look it.’

Beth sits down next to him and smiles up at the older Dixon. ‘He’s fine, Merle. Tell Julia we said hi.’

Merle shrugs and walks away.

‘So,’ the girl puts her blonde hair up in a high ponytail, ‘what have you been up to, Dare?’

He scoots a bit closer to her so their legs are pressed together. He feels better when she puts a calming hand on his knee underneath the table. Their conversation distracts him enough to not notice all the people staring at them. The dinner is great, tables filled with freshly baked bread and there are people cooking up his meat near the fire pits. Every time he asks for someone to pass an item down to them, Rosita makes him ask in Spanish which results in a lot of laughter from the rest of his family as he fumbles with the words and phrases. He doesn’t mind much, mostly because Rosita beams with pride every time he gets something right. In the end, she concludes that his accent is terrible, but she can at least understand what he’s asking for.

When the dinner ends, Tara leans forward. ‘Dare, Carl, help me clean up?’

‘Yup,’ Daryl worms out of his seat and starts stacking the dirty plates while Carl walks around to collect the forks and knives.

‘No, no please,’ a woman comes rushing forward to take the plates from him. ‘There’s no need.’

‘They can do it,’ Rick insists.

‘Yeah, we don’t mind helping,’ Carl chimes in. ‘They wouldn’t let us help setting everything up – what was his name, brother?’

‘Jasper,’ Daryl supplies. ‘Just let us help.’

‘No, really,’ the woman says. ‘It’s okay. Thank you. For everything.’

‘What the fuck is that supposed to mean, _for everything_. I’m so fucking _sick_ and _tired_ of you people fucking staring at us all the goddamn-‘

‘ _Daryl_.’ Rick’s voice cracks like a whip between them, silencing the teenager immediately. ‘Thank you,’ he says to the woman. ‘Please let us know if we can help later.’ He watches how she hurries away. ‘Carl, can you take Judy to bed? I’ll be right there.’

It’s a dismissal and every one of their group understands it as such. They rise as one, Michonne leaning down to kiss Rick before guiding his son back home. Beth squeezes Daryl’s knee before getting up, too, and following Rosita and Tara. After a minute, it’s just Daryl and Rick at the table. The man takes his watch off and starts to clean it by scratching at some dirt with his fingernails. He doesn’t seem bothered by the people who are blatantly staring at him, or by the ones whispering behind his back. He just cleans his watch. His leg bounces to a beat only he can hear.

‘So we gonna have another therapy session or what? I’m fucking sick of them.’

‘We can talk about whatever you want.’

‘But I got to sit here with these fuckin’ monkeys starin’ at me, right?’ Daryl chews on his fingernail and glances at the people at the other tables. Most hurriedly look away. Jayla sticks her tongue out which startles a snort out of him.

Rick checks who’s making him laugh but doesn’t say anything. He licks his thumb and rubs at the glass.

‘There was this guy who sort of ran the trailer park back home, ya know?’ Daryl murmurs. ‘One day, I got back from whatever – don’t remember. School, I guess. And my friends were all hanging ‘round this guy’s yard. His name was Ian – yeah, pretty sure. So I walk up and the guy has a puppy.’

The corner of Rick’s mouth turns up in a gentle smile. ‘A puppy?’

‘Yeah. Golden lab, real cute. _Cool_! Cool, I mean. Turns out the little guy is afraid of water, right? Pissed Ian off, so he took a bucket, filled it to the brim and dumped the thing in there.’

Rick frowns.

Daryl shrugs. ‘Pup went crazy. Bucket fell over.’ He scratches at his cheek, ‘some kind of lesson about savin’ itself, he said. No need to be scared if you just learn how to swim or kick the bucket.’

‘Most people mean dying with kicking the bucket.’

‘Yeah. Week later the pup was gone,’ Daryl wipes his nose on the back of his hand. ‘Dad said it ran away.’

Rick shifts and looks around. ‘You’re not the puppy, and this ain’t the water.’

‘Whatever you say, man.’

‘You know the puppy died, right?’

Daryl snorts and nearly chokes on his laughter. ‘Yeah, you asshole. I know the fuckin’ pup died.’

‘Just checking,’ Rick grins. ‘Shane had a kitten when he was young. Little tabby one, he was crazy about it. I don’t remember what he named it – I think his sister might have gotten that honor, actually. Anyway, they had this kitten. One day their mom went to take the trash out, kitty slipped out with her. Got hit by a truck.’

‘It died?’

Rick nods.

Daryl sucks on his teeth. ‘Fuckin’ sucks, man.’

‘Yeah, but get this,’ Rick laughs. ‘Their parents wrote a note from the cat, thanking the kids for all the kisses and cuddles, but that the cat had gone off to find other adventures. It was signed by the cat. It had a little paw-print and everything.’

‘No way,’ Daryl laughs. ‘and he-‘

‘And he believed it, man,’ Rick laughs. ‘Thought his kitty was backpacking through Europe or something.’

‘While it was buried in their backyard,’ Daryl laughs. ‘ _No way_. What a nerd.’

Rick grins. ‘Yeah. I was always jealous though, they always had animals at Shane’s place. One of his brothers had a lizard, they had this big bulldog, too. It was great. My mom was allergic so we never had any pets. Did you? You like animals.’

Daryl knows what he’s doing, trying to distract him from the people staring at them. It works well enough. The looks don’t bother him so much now. ‘Nah,’ he says. He digs around in his pocket to find his cigarettes. ‘Too expensive. We didn’t have the money to take care of it.’

‘Right.’

‘I like animals though,’ Daryl says quickly to keep the conversation going. He grabs a cigarette and his lighter. ‘Paul has this whole plan for a farm at Hilltop, but they only have a couple of chickens now and a cow.’

Rick reaches out and puts his hand over Daryl’s to still them. ‘Don’t smoke in front of me,’ he says. ‘Did you talk to Ezekiel about that plan?’

Daryl puts the cigarette away with a frown. ‘Why would I talk to Ezekiel about that? Was _Paul’s_ plan, I said.’

‘Thank you,’ Rick says with a nod at the disappearing package of cigarettes. ‘The Kingdom has a couple of functioning farms though. Maybe Ezekiel will grand the Hilltop a couple of animals to get started.’

‘You think so?’ Daryl sits up straight. ‘Paul was talking about doing runs but I don’t think any animals survived. Like – walkers would have gotten to them, or they’d be too wild, right? So if … that’d be awesome!’

Rick smiles at him. ‘Yeah.’

‘I’ll ask him first thing tomorrow.’

‘That sounds like a good plan.’

‘Yeah. Thanks for…’ Daryl sniffs and shrugs, ‘ya know.’

‘Of course. Feeling better?’

‘Hmm-hmm. Can we go now?’

‘Lead the way.’

Daryl stands up and everyone except for the people at Ezekiel’s table falls silent. He bounces on the balls of his feet for a second, biting his lip. ‘Can you – can you hold up for a sec? I wanna…’

Rick nods. ‘I’ll wait here.’

Daryl takes a deep breath and then hops over the table easily. He adjusts his baseball cap as he walks over to a group of giggling girls. ‘Hey, I – thanks for makin’ that pie. I shared it with my brother and Jayla, - Judith too of course. We really liked it so … ya know…’ He kicks his boots together and glances up at the girl, ‘thanks.’

‘I’m glad you liked it,’ she beams.

‘Yeah…okay. Err- bye, Lilly.’ He jumps onto the benches and hops over to the next set of tables, ducking past someone gathering dirty plates to get to his brother. ‘Yo, asshole.’

Merle automatically looks up. ‘Yo, monster.’ The table falls silent. The older Dixon reaches out and pulls his younger brother close by his waist. ‘What do you want?’

‘You comin’ back to the house or nah…?’

‘Why?’

‘Just…’ Daryl shrugs.

‘Spit it out.’

‘Rick don’t want me smokin’ in front of him and I thought… maybe we could hang out some more? But if you already had plans, or you wanna hang out with Julia, then - it’s fine. Carl’s probably waitin’ anyway – never mind, it was dumb, so I’ll see ya-‘

Merle smirks at him. Then he glances at Julia. ‘Scoot over, honey, give the kid some room.’ He slides to the left as well to create a spot for his brother. ‘Come sit for a little bit, monster. I’m winning this round, I’ll win us some cigarettes for us to share later tonight, a’right?’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl slides into the spot. Then he looks back.

Rick smiles and nods before walking back home by himself.

‘He’s going to help you now, Dixon?’ one of the guards laughs. ‘That’s cheating.’

‘Ain’t cheatin’,’ Merle smirks back, ‘it’s tryin’. Now shut up and play.’

 

 

‘I think I’m going back to Hilltop soon,’ Daryl says as he watches the stars. ‘I miss Maggie.’

Merle sucks on his cigarette and then licks his lips. Smoke ghosts over his teeth before he blows it up into the dark sky. ‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah, man.’

‘A’right,’ the man grunts. ‘What about the rest of them? They all comin’ back or what?’

Daryl shrugs. ‘I think Carl’s coming back for sure. Enid’s back home, so… I’m not sure whether Beth can come with just yet, but I hope so. Maybe Tara and Rosita? I think Rick and Michonne are staying here though.’

‘Hmm. I hope they’ve fucking started on that expansion then, or we’re gonna be bunking in Paul’s trailer again. Christ, that was something. I ain’t doin’ that again, so we might have to hurry back. Beat them to it and get us a place in the house.’

‘We?’

Merle fidgets with the laces of his boots before glancing up at his little brother. ‘Yeah, man. We. I thought about what you said, right? Rick doesn’t need me there to be his building buddy, but I got a lot of experience with it, so why not help out back home? I came here to finish something but didn’t get the chance. Might be better to start something.’

‘The New World?’ Daryl asks with a small smile.

‘Yeah, you can laugh,’ Merle snorts. He shakes his head and looks away, ‘but I see you trying out there. Talking more – trying to… be nice, ya know? Just – I don’t know, sounds like some spiritual bullshit, but you’re growin’. And I ain’t talking about these new-found muscles Rosita has been cultivating, Christ.’ He reaches out and squeezes his brother’s biceps. He can’t close his hand around it anymore. ‘You’re making me look bad, brother.’

Daryl grins and ducks his head.

‘I told you not to look up at me for nothing,’ Merle says, ‘and I mean that. That doesn’t mean I don’t… I’m your big brother, man. I feel better when I got my eyes on you. I ain’t just going back to Hilltop for a building project.’

They’re quiet for a long time. Silently smoking the cigarettes Merle won while cheating at the game. Daryl had helped by being a distraction, just like he would be back at the bar. Then it was by being just a cute kid at the edge of the table, now he distracted everyone with questions about where they were from, what they were doing now and what their ideas were about trading systems. By the time Julia caught them in the act, Merle had already passed most of the cigarettes to Daryl below the table. He’d admitted the cheating and gave the rest back to the group, getting up and bailing before they figured out they were missing a whole package.

‘Thanks for this,’ Daryl murmurs before wiping his nose on his forearm. ‘I like hanging out with you.’

‘Stop being such a girl.’

‘I fucking hate you.’

Merle laughs. ‘Ya pussy. Hey – Michonne said you were drawing again?’

‘Yeah, a little. I started on some sketches, but… ain’t ready yet to really…. Ezekiel asked for some sketches of Carol, since we don’t have pictures anymore, right? So… I wanted to do them quick, but now I kinda… I want to get them right, ya know?’

‘Yeah.’

Daryl chews on his lip and throws his cigarette away. ‘I still have mom’s picture.’

Merle frowns and looks at him sharply. ‘What?’

‘I used to have one under my matrass. I took it with me when everything went down. Still got it. It’s in my room in Alexandria.’

Merle huffs out a breath. ‘Good thing Negan’s sweet on you then, or it’d been lost.’

‘Don’t say shit like that. He ain’t.’

‘He is and you goddamn know it,’ Merle mutters. ‘Ain’t got nothing to do with who you are, monster. _He’s_ sick – twisted. The scum of the earth, right? But it ain’t a bad thing to have the devil on your side, is all I’m saying. Not in a world like this.’

‘What the hell does it matter anyway? Fine! Fucking fine, the guy gives a crap about me. Makes no difference. He’s gonna be locked in that goddamn cell for the rest of his life.’

Merle lets the smoke dance over his lips.

‘ _Right_?’ Daryl asks sharply.

‘Hmm,’ Merle gives him a jerky nod. ‘Right. Hey – if you’re drawing again… I don’t know if you want to or anything, but you always had this thing with dad, and, you know. I thought, maybe…’

Daryl perks up. ‘You want me to tattoo you?’

‘Yeah,’ Merle laughs. ‘Go grab your – sharpie? I don’t know. Go grab it.’

Daryl beams and gets up. He runs into the house, up the stairs to dart into Carl’s room and grab the black marker he keeps on the nightstand. The doors to the balcony are open to let the heat of the day out. It lets Merle’s and Rick’s voices in.

‘- nah, man,’ Merle says. ‘I was just surprised he hadn’t told him.’

‘He’s going to find out one day.’ Rick sounds worried.

‘He’ll understand. He ain’t no kid no more.’

‘No, he’s not, but that doesn’t matter. He’s not going to like it.’

‘It’s a long time from now, Rick.’

‘Yeah. Maybe.’

Daryl takes a deep breath. He could storm down there and demand to know what they were talking about, and whether they’re talking about him or Carl. He would have done that a couple of weeks ago. Months ago he’d probably rage from the damn balcony that they should stop talking about him behind his back.

He wrings his hand on the marker. And then closes the doors. With heavy footsteps, he stomps down the stairs.

Rick and Merle are quiet when he steps out onto the porch.

‘I’m going back to Hilltop soon,’ Daryl tells Rick as he sits down next to his brother.

Rick smiles at him. ‘Do you miss Maggie?’

‘Yeah, man. Loads.’

‘I think it’s a good idea,’ the former cop nods. His gaze glides over to the small gate at the beginning of their garden. There’s a woman standing there with a plate in her hands. She looks unsure for a moment. ‘I need to go. Excuse me.’

‘Where are you going?’ Daryl asks.

‘To give Negan his dinner,’ Rick says as he pauses on the bottom step. ‘Some of the people here are uncomfortable being close to him. I offered to do it instead.’

‘A’right. Stop talking to him about me.’

‘He worries.’

‘He don’t,’ Daryl grumbles. He turns to his brother and pushes his sleeve up so he can draw on his arm.  

‘He really does,’ Rick sighs. ‘I’ll just let him know you’re doing all right.’

Daryl rolls his eyes and then looks at Rick. Their eyes meet. ‘All right,’ the youngest Dixon allows. ‘I trust you.’

He turns back to his work and misses the look Merle and Rick share.

 

 

 


	11. Ain't love

 

 

* * *

 

 

The windows have been cleaned. Daryl stumbles to a halt as he stares up at the shining glass. There’s sweat dripping down his temples. It soaks into the dirty wife-beater he wears during his work-out sessions. He wipes the palms of his hands on his jeans before checking that his knife is still on his belt. It is, of course. Cautiously, he walks back towards the entrance of the art department. There are footsteps in the dust that aren’t his. It’s been a couple of days since Ezekiel assigned him the room, maybe the King has changed his mind. The door to his room is open. He can hear someone moving around inside.

He takes his knife out but hides it behind his back as he slowly heads down the hallway. He wrinkles his nose. Something smells different here. It reminds him of Alexandria, somehow, even though he can’t place what it is. With the tip of his boot, he pushes the door open further. He peeks inside, and freezes.

Some of the large tables have been pushed into a corner where they create a platform. A matrass is placed on top of it. There are several pillows, big and small, and piles of blankets. Most have colorful motives, florals and some are even decorated with cartoon characters, but the one that covers most of the bed is a simple gray and white stripe. The windows have been cleaned and the sun beams down on the bedding. It already looks warm and inviting. All the tables have been cleaned as well, and the art supplies are stalled out, ready for him to use. There are piles of notebooks stacked in the closet, along with the reference books. The whiteboard has been wiped, brand-new looking markers are on the desk.

But it’s not all that that causes him to freeze.

It’s Frankie, who is balancing on a stepladder to reach the top of the closet. She wipes it clean with a wet cloth. The bright fiery hair sits in a tight bun on top of her head and the sleeves of her flannel shirt have been rolled up. Water drips down her arm but she doesn’t seem to mind. It’s still strange to see her in anything other than a skimpy black dress, but he thinks this suits her better. Working boots and ripped jeans that are too big, a stained tank top that must have been green at some point. It makes him smile when she just wipes her hands on her thighs, no longer caring much about her appearance.

He leans against the doorpost and waits until she gets down from the ladder before speaking up. ‘What’re you doin’?’

She holds her breath and whirls around, exhaling loudly when she sees that it’s just him. ‘Dare,’ she breathes. ‘Hi. Good morning.’

He stares her down.

‘Some people told me Ezek – _King_ Ezekiel gave you this room to use for when you visit. They said it hasn’t been used since the start, so I…’ She looks down at the bucket and the rag she’d been using to clean with, ‘I just wanted to make it a little nicer for you. More like a home to come back to.’

‘Why?’

She throws the cloth into the water. ‘It’s the least I can do right now.’

‘You don’t owe me shit.’

Frankie sits down on the stepladder and picks at her fingernails. ‘Of course I do,’ she says softly before looking up at him again. ‘And even if I didn’t – I just wanted you to have this. A place of your own – a _nice_ place. Not some dusty old classroom where you’d have to sleep on the floor.’

He pushes himself away from the doorpost and walks into the room. It smells nice. Her cleaning supplies have left the scent of pinewoods behind, more chemical than the real deal, but better than the musty smell it had before. The artwork has been straightened on the walls, figurines dusted off and all the dust and dirt has been swept into a corner.

She watches him closely. It takes him a second to realize that her gaze is on his right hand.

He puts the knife back into its sheath. ‘Thanks,’ he says because there’s no point in getting angry that a Savior is inside his rooms when it’s her. ‘I like it.’

‘I’m glad,’ she answers with a hesitant smile. ‘It still needs some work, but – it’ll be here for you when you return.’

‘Yeah.’ He heads over to the bed and jumps onto the platform. The matrass is soft. The blankets are warmed by the sun.

‘I can move it if you want the bed somewhere else,’ she says, ‘but this way you’ll wake up with the sun beaming in. I always liked that myself. And when you return in the afternoon, the sun will be on the other side of the room, where you can draw. Natural light is important, right?’

‘Yeah.’

She doesn’t seem to be put out by his short answers. Quite the opposite. Her shoulders relax and some tension bleeds out of her expression. Long, elegant fingers card through her hair to smooth down some fly-aways. ‘I’m glad you like it.’

‘Hmm.’ He fidgets with the edge of the blanket. ‘Did you ask Rick to pass a book to Negan?’

She looks up sharply.

‘He were readin’ a western when I… visited him. That was your favorite genre, right? I remember you sayin’ that when I – when we were talking about books back at the - at that place.’

‘I did. Rick actually gave it to him?’

‘Guess so.’

‘Good,’ she seems very pleased but hides her smile. ‘That’s good.’

Daryl rubs his knuckles over his knee. ‘He ain’t a good guy, you know?’ he blurts out. ‘Weren’t even a good husband, like, damn. Five others on the side and screwin’ you over every chance he got. Made you watch while he fucking burned people’s faces off! How can you – how can you even…’

‘Love him?’  Frankie finishes his sentence when words fail him. ‘I didn’t, at first. It was just a way to survive. He liked my looks, I’d hurt my leg and couldn’t earn enough points so we struck a deal.’

‘It ain’t supposed to be a _deal_!’ Daryl snaps angrily.

Frankie gives him a soft smile. ‘You mean marriage? What is it supposed to be like, Dare? A knight in shining armor, rescuing the damsel in distress? Happily ever after? Growing old together?’

‘Well- yeah! Growing old together! Like – actually givin’ a shit about the other person and not because they’ll fucking suck your dick for it.’ His ears burn but he grits his teeth and glares at her. ‘It’s supposed to be unconditional or it’s fucked up.’

‘It’s not always that black and white, Dare.’

‘Is,’ he grunts. ‘It _should_ be!’

‘But it’s not,’ she says with a shrug. ‘I liked spending time with him, getting to know the _real_ Negan.’ She ignores him rolling his eyes. ‘Did you know he used to work with kids? He was a teacher at a high school, can you believe it? It’s why he loves kids.’

‘He’s a fucking psychopath who likes to kill people with a barbed-wired bat!’

Frankie looks down at his hands. ‘He was protecting us. Anyone of your group would have done the same.’

Daryl opens his mouth but the words of outrage escape him. It’s so wrong that he doesn’t know where to start.

‘We didn’t even know your group existed, and you all killed an entire outpost. Husbands and wives, brothers and sisters of people at the Sanctuary. There were teenagers there, too. Nineteen year olds you all butchered in their sleep. Someone’s son. And someone’s daughter.’

Daryl stands up and jumps from the platform. ‘Don’t fucking start with blaming that shit on _us_!’

‘He saved people. He saved _me_.’

‘He brainwashed you,’ Daryl hisses at her as he starts to pace around the classroom. ‘He takes what he wants and he doesn’t give a shit about anyone! He burned one of his wives on a fucking stake. The only thing he loves is that goddamn bat!’

Frankie shakes her head. ‘You’re wrong about him.’

‘Yeah?’

‘He loves us.’

‘He got it on with Sherry to be a dick to Dwight and-‘

‘I meant you and me. He loves _us_.’

Daryl stops his pacing and looks up at the ceiling. He slowly closes his eyes.

‘You know it’s true,’ Frankie says with a soft smile. She gets up too and walks over to him. Soft fingers on his cheek and then a warm hand settling on his shoulder. ‘He loves you. I think you remind him of himself. Or the son he never had.’

‘Say shit like that again, and I’ll fuck you up,’ Daryl whispers. ‘Don’t give a damn that you were good to me. _I’ll fuck you up_.’

‘I’m not scared of you. Either one of you,’ she whispers backs, ‘because neither of you would hurt me. He was all talk with us.’

‘Stripped me down, made me eat dog food, _tortured_ me – and you’re sayin’ he’s all talk? Fucking listen to yourself, woman.’

The fingers return to his cheek. They smooth over his eyebrows, warm hands cupping his face. ‘He knew about your wounds. Where were they? On your hips? Your thighs? Somewhere below your waist, where he wouldn’t see, right? But he knew.’

Daryl opens his eyes. ‘No. He didn’t.’

‘You’d cut yourself. Your sheets and underwear were bloody. Of course he knew, Dare. The people who kept your room told him about it. They reported to him and he didn’t do anything. He’d promised to bash your head in, right? He could have done it, but he didn’t. He _didn’t_.’

Daryl nods. ‘And you think that’s love? Pretending something ain’t happening just so you won’t have to keep the sick promises you make? You know how fucked up that is? So now I should be thankful that he let me cut myself up in peace or something? No. That ain’t love.’

‘He-‘

‘No!’ He steps back. ‘It took me long enough to learn, but I learned, a’right. That _ain’t_ love.’

Frankie sighs. ‘It’s not your fairy-tale kind of love, but it’s his, Dare. He’s not perfect. We all have flaws, but he’s try-‘

‘ _Flaws_? This ain’t Paul cracking his joints every two seconds, or Rick not taking his goddamn boots off in the house! He’s a psychopath who murdered my dad and my friends, who tried to brainwash me – and yeah, okay? Fine. It fucking worked! It worked because I – I… because – ‘

‘You love him, too.’

Daryl glares at her, 'but at least I know it’s fucked up on my part.’

‘That doesn’t make it less true, Dare.’

‘But it makes it _less_!’ Daryl hisses. ‘Less than Will and Merle, less than Rick! Ain’t got nothing on Shane! It doesn’t even come _close_ to Maggie and Glenn! Because that _was_ the fairytale. Unconditional, and I was goddamn lucky to be a part of it. Yeah – I might have gotten confused along the way and care about that son of a bitch now, but don’t _for a second_ think that I won’t put a bullet in his brain if I get the chance. Because I _am_ going to kill him.’

‘Why?’ Frankie breathes.

‘Because he killed my dad. He killed my friends. And everyone can have an opinion about it, give me the crap about a new world and how an eye for an eye makes the world go blind, but I don’t give a shit. I _will_ get my revenge.’

‘It won’t make you feel better.’

Daryl smirks. ‘I’ll get over it.’

Frankie shakes her head and sits down on one of the tables.

Daryl rubs his knuckles over his cheek and then gnaws on the nail of his thumb. He glances at her through his dark bangs. ‘We can still be… kinda friends, though.’

‘We can be _kinda friends_?’ the woman asks with a soft laugh.

‘Hmm-hmm.’

‘You want to kill my husband.’

‘Yeah, but I haven’t yet, so you can’t really hate me for it.’

‘Actually, I can,’ Frankie says, 'and I should, but… He was right about one thing; you’re too goddamn sweet. We can be kinda friends. I’d like that.’

Daryl shoots her a small grin. ‘Thanks for fixin’ up my room.’

‘You’re welcome.’

They look around the room for a moment. The silence stretches between them.

‘This is weird. I’m leaving,’ Daryl says abruptly. He darts out of the classroom, running down the hallway to jump back into the sunshine outside. The laughter coming from his room makes him smile, too. He throws a last glance over his shoulder and lifts his hand to wave at Frankie, who is watching him fondly from the window.

 

 

At midday, there are a couple of people waiting to be let into Ezekiel’s auditorium for an audience with the King. They’re mostly farmers who need more hands to help with the next harvest and a couple of teenagers who want to join the armed guard. The blacksmith has send his apprentice to ask for more materials. The doors open and some soldiers pour out, heading towards the gate or their training grounds. There had been a meeting this morning about new scouting missions. The sudden growth of the Kingdom has put a lot of pressure on their system. Food is running lower than Ezekiel is comfortable with. Some of the Saviors will be transferred to Hilltop Colony, but their provisions are low as well. They need a couple of good runs.

‘Morning, Dixon! Hey, missy!’ one of the guards who’d fought with him at the final battle greets him with a big smile. There’s a scar running from his temple to the back of his neck, a slash from a knife he hadn’t managed to dodge. He reaches out and tickles Judith, who is staring at the group of men in their dark armor.

‘Morning, Stan. King’s done?’

‘Yeah, you can go in. Monica is waiting for you.’

‘Thanks, man. Say bye, Judy.’ He grins when the little girl just buries her face in his chest, too shy to talk to strangers. When he walks past the line of people waiting, he hears how one of the teenagers complains that they were there first

‘Shut the fuck up,’ one of his friends hisses. ‘That’s Daryl, from Alexandria? Carl’s brother.’

‘He’s Rick’s kid?’

‘Well – I… I guess so?’

He ignores them. As soon as he rounds the corner, Judith perks up and starts to wriggle to be put down on the floor. It’s no surprise why she’d want that. Jerry is standing guard at the stage, his face lighting up when he spots the little girl on her brother’s hip. He holds out his arms for her.

‘Princes!’ he hollers.

‘Dar!’

‘I know, I know,’ Daryl helps her down, steadies her for moment and then lets her run down the aisle. ‘Please and thank you, you’re welcome. Every Grimes is the same, lemme fuckin’ tell ya. Rude as hell,’ he grins at Ezekiel.

‘Sometimes we learn more from our brothers than our fathers,’ the King answers. ‘Watch your language, my young friend.’ A fond smile warms his expression when Jerry scoops the little girl up for a hug. She giggles and then starts telling him about something they’d seen on the way here. The guard has no idea what she’s talking about but makes appropriate sounds of amazement all the same.

‘Sorry, your majesty,’ Daryl gives the man a short bow before running up to the stage, jumping onto it with a smooth move. ‘Hey Monica, good morning. Sorry I brought Judy. Rick asked me to watch her today.’

Monica is sitting at the large table. She stacks some maps and papers from the meetings earlier. Her blonde hair is cut short. During the battle for the outposts, a walker had gotten hold of her long hair. The armor covering her shoulders had been the only thing that saved her from turning into one of them. Seconds later, she’d knelt down in front of one of her friends with the request to slice it all off there and then.

‘That’s perfectly fine, Daryl. Take a seat. You wanted to talk about a deal with Hilltop?’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl slides into the seat. ‘About the farm animals. Hilltop don’t got too many.’

Monica nods. ‘I see.’

‘Yeah,’ the teenager repeats slowly when she doesn’t say anything else. ‘Erm…’

The woman smiles. ‘Make a proposal. What do you want to achieve at this meeting? You want to make a deal happen between the Kingdom and Hilltop colony. What do you need from us, and what are you willing to give in return?’

‘Oh, yeah – yeah, okay. Erm,’ he scratches at the back of his neck and glances at Judith. She’s showing Jerry her new dress, plucking at the material with a pout on her face. It’s itchy and she’s been complaining about it all morning.

Ezekiel taps with his walking stick on the floor to start the session. It distracts the little girl enough to stop whining. With big blue eyes, she watches how the first people enter the auditorium.

‘Daryl? She’s perfectly safe with Jerry.’

‘I know that.’

Monica leans to the side to catch his eye, ‘then focus _here_.’

‘Somebody ought to be watching the King,’ Daryl murmurs. ‘There’s… it ain’t only your people standing in line to see him.’

‘Focus here,’ Monica taps on the table with her fingertips. ‘Hilltop Colony is our ally, and Maggie Rhee our dear friend, but I want the best deal for the Kingdom. You need to pay attention, or I’ll screw you over.’

‘You wouldn’t,’ Daryl smirks.

She smirks back. ‘How would you know if you aren’t paying attention?’

He narrows his eyes at her. ‘Right. I’m paying attention. So… we have a cow and chickens. That’s it.’

‘I know,’ Monica nods.

Daryl bites on his lower lip.

‘You’re putting yourself in a weak trading position. Negotiations are like a game of poker. Never show your hand, and sometimes it helps to bluff a little bit. Hilltop is doing great. Lots of resources, but you all want to grow. You’re not _desperate_ , right?’

‘No,’ Daryl says warily even though they are.

‘No, you’re not,’ Monica says. ‘So you want farm animals. We have those. What can Hilltop give us in return?’

‘What do you want?’

‘Nothing. We’re good,’ Monica leans back in her seat and crosses her arms.

Daryl frowns and feels his temper flaring. ‘Then why the hell are we even doing this – you don’t wanna help us out? We – you’re lying,’ he realizes, too late. ‘You’re bluffing.’

‘I am. You know every community. Use that knowledge to your advantage. What do we need?’

Daryl wrecks his brain. He glances back at Judith, who is now sitting behind Ezekiel’s throne. She’s playing with some colorful blocks, stacking them up to create a wonky tower. When it falls, Jerry gasps and laughs from where he’s standing guard at his King’s side.

He turns back to Monica. ‘You need food, but you’re willing to trade your animals away. Why?’ He worries his bottom lip and then suddenly looks up with a grin. ‘You know about the expansion of Hilltop.’

Monica’s smile grows wider.

‘The deal Maggie made about the prisoners was based on Hilltop Colony _as is_. You want us to take in more saviors.’

‘Very good, Dare. You were at that meeting. It was indeed based on just Barrington House, but rumors are that Maggie is building another house.’

It’s Daryl’s turn to lean back in his chair and cross his arms. He thinks about the deal. His instincts tell him not to do it. He doesn’t want any Saviors living at Hilltop, let alone _more_ of them, but they need animals to get their own farm going. And maybe the extra manpower won’t hurt. Rations will be tight the first couple of weeks until their own first harvest comes in, but he will be able to hunt again to relieve the stress somewhat with his traps and kills. He slowly sticks his hand out, then he quickly retracts it again before Monica can take it. ‘Only if they weren’t soldiers. We ain’t taking them in. Just – just workers.’

Monica nods. ‘I understand. We can do that.’ She holds out her hand.

Daryl shakes it firmly. Then he beams at her, ‘y’all got sheep or something? That’d be awesome.’

 

 

‘Sheep!’ Daryl says as he bops Judith on his hip, almost skipping through the streets of the Kingdom. ‘They’re gonna give us sheep! You know what sound a sheep makes, right? _Beeh_!’

Judith laughs and twists her hands into his shirt, fingers catching on the necklaces hiding beneath it. ‘ _Beeh_!’ she echoes.

‘Yeah, that’s right! That’s the sound a sheep makes. We’ll have wool, and milk and meat. And they’re gonna graze for us. Nomonomnomn,’ the teenager pretends to eat the girls arm, ‘eating all the grass.’

‘All the gass,’ Judith says with a decisive nod.

‘All the _grass_ ,’ Daryl corrects, ‘yeah! Sheep eat grass. Do you eat all the grass, too? ‘Cause you’re getting’ heavy. Wanna walk by yourself?’

The girl nods and skip beside him. She grabs hold of his hand and pulls at his arm, jumping up. ‘Fly!’

Daryl grins and counts down, lifting her high into the air on one. She shrieks with joy and immediately pulls again, demanding another go. It’s a silly game Daryl remembers doing with Merle, using his older brother’s body as a jungle gym on their way back from school, though he doesn’t fling her away from him like his brother used to do. He holds onto her hand until she lands safely beside him again.

He’s so happy about the deal he struck with Monica that even the people watching his every move don’t annoy him as much. He just focusses on Judith and notices that his happiness is contagious. The girl is jumping around, skipping and babbling along with him. Her speech is getting better every day and he likes the fact that she can almost say his name right.

‘Left here, _left_ , Kicker!’ Daryl laughs as he almost trips over her. ‘There we go. What’s your left and what’s you right?’

Judith looks up at him with wide, sparkling eyes.

‘Give me a high-five with your right hand.’

She jumps up to slap their hands together.

‘Great job,’ Daryl cheers, ‘now kick me with your left foot.’

She swats at him with her left hand.

‘Oh no!’ Daryl scoops her up and holds her upside down, ‘something ain’t right with you, Kicker! Your foot’s in the wrong place! Oh man, that fucking sucks. We gotta ask Beth if she can switch your hand and foot, because this shit ain’t right.’

‘No!’ Judith laughs as she wriggles around, head slowly getting redder and redder.

‘No?’ He puts her back down carefully. ‘Everything is okay?’

Judith nods. ‘Yeah!’

‘Oh, thank God,’ Daryl sighs with a hand over his heart. ‘Imagine me bringing you back to Rick with your hand where your foot is. He’d whoop me hard, Kicker.’

‘No,’ Judith hugs his waist, leaning heavily against him.

‘No? He wouldn’t whoop me hard? Maybe not, your dad’s a good guy. He should be home by now, so if we hurry up, we can show him that I didn’t mess you up. Sounds good?’

The girl beams up at him and nods a couple of times, blonde curls bouncing with the movement. He’s pretty sure she didn’t understand half of it, only the fact that Rick should be home and they should go see him.

‘Okay then. Come on!’ They walk down the alley towards the armory. Ezekiel doesn’t like it when he walks around the Kingdom with his bow, hunting knife _and_ gun, so he has decided to store his bow in the armory. He needs it back now. Tomorrow he’ll leave for Hilltop Colony and he doesn’t want to waste time in the morning. He just wants to go home. ‘Get the door for me?’

The girl grunts but manages to pull the handle down and the door open.

‘Good job, kicker, thank you very much,’ he grins, holding his hand down for another high-five before he steps into the building.

‘Dare! Hi!’

He frowns and looks to the side, where there’s a desk for whoever is on guard duty. It doesn’t surprise him that Jayla is sitting on top of the desk, crutches leaning against wall close-by. She often has guard duty after her lessons and he has kept her company plenty of times. What does surprise him is that she’s hastily combing a hand through her curls, and that she looks a bit flustered.

There’s a guy standing next to her. He’s looking at his boots to hide the blush forming on his cheeks.

‘Ja!’ Judith runs over and hugs her leg. After meeting the girl just a couple of days ago, she has decided they’re best friends.

‘Hey, Jayla,’ Daryl says as he eyes the other guy. They’re probably about the same age. He has short blond hair but dark eyes, light stubble on his cheeks that doesn’t hide the redness very well. Daryl hasn’t seen him before but almost hates him on sight when he spots that he’s holding Jayla’s hand tightly.

‘Hi Judy,’ Jayla runs a loving hand over the girl’s head before turning back to her brother. ‘Dare, erm – this is Kevin. My… my boyfriend.’

Daryl nods jerkily, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. ‘Hi. Daryl Dixon.’

‘Yeah, I know,’ Kevin says as he finally looks up, shoulders curled in and face a little turned away as if he doesn’t really want to meet the other boy’s eyes. ‘I was at the final battle.’

Daryl glances at Jayla who winces. ‘Oh. There were so many people, I don’t – thanks for… fighting with us.’

Kevin looks at his boots again. ‘I didn’t fight with you. I was on the other side.’

Anger flares inside of him so fast that it takes his breath away. It makes him sick to his stomach. Suddenly nauseous and sweating, he takes an unsteady step backwards to put more distance between them. He tries not to look down at their intertwines hands. Instinct causes his hand to fall to his knife. The flowers smooth beneath his fingertips, so familiar that it’s soothing.

‘Dare,’ Jayla slides off the desk. She looks a little scared. ‘I didn’t tell you before because-‘

‘I don’t fucking care,’ he breathes. ‘I’m getting my bow and a clip for my gun. I’m leaving this place.’

‘You’re leaving? When? Dare, stop!’

He ignores her and stalks into the armory, kicking the door open and grabbing his bow. The weight of it on his back makes him feel better and worse at the same time. It scares him how much he wants to arm it, and how easy that shot would be.

‘Dare, please.’ Jayla has grabbed her crutches and is standing behind him now while he grabs a clip and puts it in his back pocket. ‘We can talk about this, right?’

‘Talk about _what?_ ’ He hisses as he whirls around to face her. ‘That you’re – that you’re – he’s a fucking _Savior_ , Jay! He tried to kill us all, and you’re here – just –‘ he makes a frustrated sound of anger and balls his fists, gritting his teeth so hard that it hurts his jaw. ‘He’s your boyfriend? Are you crazy? He’s the enemy!’

‘Not anymore.’

Daryl gets into her face, stepping so close that their noses are almost touching. ‘Benjamin was killed by one of them. My dad. My friends. _Your_ friends. And you just forgive and forget because you want to suck his dick, huh?’

‘There’s no need to be crude,’ Jayla says calmly but there are tears in her eyes. ‘Step back. You’re scaring me.’

‘ _He_ should be scaring you,’ Daryl hisses viciously. ‘Careful, Jay. He might cut your throat while you’re sleepin’, but go ahead. You pick that life. Hope you two are very happy together,’ he sneers before stalking back to the door. ‘Judy, where the fuck are-‘

Judith is standing by the door, biting on her fingernails and staring at him with huge, watery eyes.

He stops dead in his tracks.

They stare at each other for a second.

‘Come here,’ he says softly.

She runs towards him and jumps into his arms, burying herself in his chest with soft sniffles.

He hugs her tightly. ‘I’m sorry, kicker. I didn’t mean to scare you like that. I’m not angry at you. I’m so sorry,’ he kisses her temple. ‘Let’s go home. We’re done here.’

 

 

‘What happened?’

‘Leave me alone.’

Rick sits down on the bed and watches how he packs his bags. He wrings his hands. ‘Ezekiel told me about the deal you struck with Monica. He was very proud. Maggie will be, too.’

‘Are you deaf?’ Daryl asks him while he stuffs his shirts in a bag. ‘Leave me alone, man!’

‘ _I_ am very proud.’

‘Yeah – I don’t give a fuck, Rick,’ the teenager snaps. His hands are shaking.

‘Not just because of the deal,’ Rick continues like he hasn’t spoken. ‘I’m very proud of _you_. I don’t think I tell you that enough. The way you’ve been the last couple of weeks?’ Rick nods and stands up. ‘I’m _so_ proud of you, Daryl, I wanted you to know that. I’ll leave you alone now.’

Daryl looks down at his shaking hands. He twists his shirt and then throws it down. ‘Rick!’

The cop turns in the doorway. ‘Yes, Dare?’

The teenager tries to say something. About Frankie who loves a monster, about his own twisted heart, about Jayla who’s holding hands that are wet from the blood of their friends. How his own heart is slowly breaking apart with it all, and his tongue won’t cooperate anymore. He can’t talk. Doesn’t know what to say. It just hurts, and he doesn’t know how to make it stop.

He hates how there are tears burning in his eyes.

Rick just looks at him.

One small step, a moment of hesitation, and then Daryl darts across the room towards the man. Tears spill over his eyelashes when he blinks. His shoulders tremble as he hugs the other man tightly, desperately. He’s too tall to rests his head against Rick’s sternum anymore, can’t hide in his embrace entirely, but the man loops his arms around his broad shoulders and holds him.

A warm hand rubs at the base of his neck while he cries.

‘I love you,’ Rick say softly.

Daryl squeezes him.

 

 

The rest of their family is gathering around the bike and Carl, who is holding a screaming Judith. The little girl only now realized that her big brother is leaving for longer than a couple of hours, that he won’t be back by nightfall, and she’s having none of it. He tries to distract her with his hat, with tickling fingers and tight hugs, but she just sobs on his shoulder.

Daryl is standing a little ways away with Merle. They’re sharing a last cigarette in silence.

Merle doesn’t seem to mind that his little brother is standing a bit too close, their shoulders pressing together. After a glance down at him, he just loops his arm around him, dragging him even closer. ‘Gonna miss you,’ he says softly, almost like he wishes Daryl won’t hear.

‘I’ll miss you, too. You’ll come back to Hilltop soon though, right?’

‘Real soon, baby brother.’

‘Good,’ he leans against Merle and takes a drag from their cigarette. He already said goodbye to most of the Kingdom's people earlier this morning at breakfast. The King himself, and Jerry of course. Monica and the other guards, Julia, too. They’re still sitting at the long tables, finishing up in the distance.

Jayla is sitting with Kevin and a bunch of Saviors. She keeps glancing his way.

He keeps pretending not to be looking.

‘That’s your girl, right?’

Daryl scowls at his boots. ‘Ain’t mine. It’s Jayla, if that’s what you mean. Yeah.’

Merle takes their cigarette. ‘You didn’t say goodbye to her. You two fightin’?’

‘She’s dating a fucking Savior, man.’

‘Ah.’ Merle takes the last drag and throws the cigarette on the ground. He stomps it out with his boot. ‘You a jealous little bitch now?’

‘Ain’t jealous. A Savior, man. She’s with a goddamn _Savior_!’

Merle nods. ‘A terrible thing, man. You see the way he looks at her? Like he worships the ground she walks on? Fucking disgusting, brother. Lemme tell ya. He might even be treatin’ her right. Nah, nah. We ain’t about that life. Miss me with that love bullshit.’

Daryl grits his teeth. ‘Shut the fuck up. What do you know?’

‘Know love is weird ass thing, brother. But I ain’t giving you the evil eye just because you snuck out to kiss Negan goodbye this morning, or whatever the fuck it is you did in that cell. Yeah, I saw you. Thought you were gonna do something stupid at first, but your gear was still by the door.’ Merle sucks on his teeth. ‘You lost the girl, don’t mean you gotta lose a friend, too.’

Daryl sighs and kicks his boots together. ‘Already did, man.’

Merle looks down at him. ‘You did her wrong?’

‘Hmm.’

‘Yes or no, you did her wrong?’

‘Yeah! Yeah, I did, but-‘

‘But she’s dating a Savior and that makes everything you did a’right, huh? Gonna be a lot of people giving her hell for that, you know that, right? ‘specially when they know Daryl Dixon ditched her the moment he found out. Hey,’ Merle holds up his hands, ‘you wanted to try it; the whole New World thing. That means people will be looking at you and how you deal with things. Gonna set the tone, man.’ He glances at Jayla, ‘and it ain’t too friendly right about now.’

Daryl looks up.

Kevin has scooted closer to Jayla, curling a protective arm around her shoulders. The other Saviors are standing now, glaring at a couple of men and women who are saying stuff to the girl.

Daryl gnaws on the nail of his thumb.

‘You just gonna stand there?’ Merle sneers. ‘She’s your goddamn friend, asshole. The pig taught you better than this, go eat your words and say you’re fucking sorry. Hurry up. You’re wastin’ daylight.’

Daryl takes a step and then looks back at his brother.

‘I got your six,’ Merle confirms, pushing himself away from the wall as well. ‘Let’s go save a damsel in distress, huh?’

‘Call her that to her face and she’ll take your fucking balls,’ Daryl warns. He holds onto the strap of his crossbow as he crosses the street to head over towards the tables. The Saviors spot him first, always wary of any Alexandrian with their hate-filled eyes, and cower. Some sit back down, hunching their shoulders and muttering that they didn’t start the argument. Their heads snap back up when he sits down at their table, across from Jayla.

Kevin glares at him.

‘Morning,’ Daryl mutters as he adjusts his baseball cap. ‘I… err.. Jay, listen – I’m sorry about – I’m just real sorry.’

‘Thanks, bye,’ Jayla says without looking up.

‘ _Jayla_ ,’ he leans forward. ‘I really am sorry.’ There are still people standing at the end of the table, watching the pair of them. It causes his anger to flare again. ‘Can I fuckin’ help you?’ he snaps. ‘I’m crashin’ ‘nd burnin’ over here and I’d like to do it in fucking peace, so if y’all could go jerk off somewhere else, that’d be fucking amazing!’

Kevin snorts and Jayla can’t help but smile at his outburst. The people quickly disperse.

‘Sorry,’ Daryl says again, turning back to the girl. ‘So… I’m leaving, but I just wanted you to know that..’

‘You’re sorry? Yeah, so you’ve said.’

‘What, I’m sitting here,’ Daryl hisses at her, glancing at the Saviors who look amused. ‘What else do you want me to do right now? I’m _trying_.’

Jayla finally looks at him. ‘You are. Thank you, Dare.’

‘Okay, so…’

‘You’re a piece of shit,’ she tells him but she holds out her hand to him, entwining their fingers. ‘Friends?’

‘Always,’ he kisses her hand. ‘I gotta go though, see if Judith’s meltdown is over and get on the road.’

‘Stay safe, Daryl.’

‘Yeah,’ he gets up. ‘You know my brother, Merle, right? He’s a bit of a dick, but… those people give you trouble again? He’ll take care of it.’ Then he squares his shoulders. After a heartbeat, he holds his hand out to Kevin. ‘Start over? I’m Daryl Dixon, from Alexandria.’

Kevin stands, too. ‘Kevin, from the Kingdom.’

They shake hands.

 

 

‘ _Yes_ ,’ Carl moans as he walks over to the bike. ‘I will ask Daryl to help me change my bandages and clean my fucked-up eye. Yes, Michonne.’

‘Every day,’ the woman calls out after him. ‘You need to change it every day. Daryl!’

‘Heard it!’ Daryl confirms as he shifts in his seat. ‘Cleaning his fucked-up eye every day. Yes ma’am. Can we go now?’ He ties his bandana in front of his face while his brother climbs on behind him. A hand squeezes his shoulder.

‘Good to go.’

Both Rick and Merle walk over to open the gate for them.

‘Bye Judy!’

‘Bye Kicker!’

Both brothers wave at the little girl perched on Beth’s hip. She waves back at them.

The gate opens.

The road to Hilltop is wide open for them.

 

 


	12. Home again

 

* * *

 

 

The gates open as soon as they round the final corner and head up the straight road leading to Hilltop Colony. The sight of that familiar wall causes the last knots in Daryl’s stomach to come undone. He glances over his shoulder at Carl, who is squeezing his sides excitedly in return. The sheriff’s hat has been stuffed in their pack to keep it safe, and his hair is blowing in the wind. Daryl’s baseball cap is clipped to his belt, his own hair wild too. He can’t wait to hear Maggie complain about him needing a haircut.

The guards raise their spears in greeting.

Daryl revs the engine in return. With a final roar of the bike, they zip through the gate. People are already coming over to catch a glimpse of him, smiling and raising their hands to wave at the youngest Dixon. They come from the trailers and the fields, most still with their tools nearby. Daryl parks next to the last trailer, kicking out the standard and nodding at Carl that he can get off safely while he kills the engine. The silence is broken by people welcoming him home. He sits back as soon as his brother hops off and stretches. They haven’t stopped at all, far too eager to get home.

‘ _Enid_!’ Carl takes off running as soon as he spots the girl across the fields. She’s running, too.

Daryl watches how they meet in the middle. How the girl jumps into his brother’s arms, hugging him tightly as Carl buries his face in her neck, holding on for dear life after being apart for so long. He smiles and puts his baseball cap back on before jumping off the bike. He starts running, too.

‘Welcome home, Daryl!’

‘Hey, Dare!’

‘Dixon! Good to see you!’

He waves even though it doesn’t really register who is greeting him. There’s only one person he’s dying to see. He jumps onto the steps of Barrington house, bursting through the door.

There are several people sitting around the small coffee table in the hall. There are lists on the table, stacks of books and maps, pens and rulers. None of it matters. He runs to the left, where the big meeting room is, but it’s empty.

‘Daryl!’

He whirls around. ‘Paul,’ he beams, ‘where’s Maggie?’

The scout has risen from his seat and beams back at him. He has clearly just gotten back from a run. The leather coat is on the floor at his feet, the dark green shirt he’s wearing is dirty but his knives gleam on his belts. He’s still wearing his gloves and bandana, though it’s just hanging around his neck now. ‘She’s resting,’ he says as he walks over to the young man. ‘How are you? You look – ‘ his gaze flashes over his body, from his boots to the crown of his head, ‘you look good.’

‘Yeah – yeah, I’m fine, I –‘ Daryl doesn’t bother to finish his sentence and darts around the man, running up the staircase. ‘I’ll catch you later! I’m –‘ He stops dead in his tracks. ‘ _Hey_.’

Maggie is standing on top of the staircase. One hand on her swollen belly, the other over her heart. The dark hair is getting longer now. It’s tucked behind her ears. She’s smiling with tears shimmering in her eyes. ‘You’re home.’

Daryl nods. ‘Yeah.’

‘I’m really glad.’

‘Me too.’ He bounces on the balls of his feet for a moment and then walks up the last couple of steps. Everything feels better the moment he hugs her gently, a little from the side so he won’t bump into her belly. He smiles into her shoulder when she pulled him closer, not as gently, her fingers digging into the wings on his back. ‘Everyone says hi,’ he tells her. ‘Sends their love.’

‘Is everyone okay? Nothing happened?’

‘Nothing happened,’ he confirms. ‘They’re all okay. I brought Carl back with me. He’s with Enid.’

‘Of course he is,’ Maggie laughs when they pull apart. She cups his face, running her thumbs over his cheeks as she inspects him. ‘You look great, Dare.’

‘I feel a lot better,’ he admits. ‘It was good to be with Merle a while, ‘nd Rick. Everyone. Rosita got me back in shape, made me run all these laps, it was fuckin’ crazy. Kinda liked it in the end though, I might keep it up.’

‘You should.’

‘You think I look different?’ Daryl beams, ‘wait until you see asskicker. She’s getting so big! She’s talking more now, _almost_ got my name right the other day. Calls Carl car, but that’s okay. Work in progress. But hey,’ he smiles and looks down at her belly. ‘She’s not the only one growing, holy shit!’

Maggie laughs and swats at his arm. ‘Thank you?’

‘It’s a good thing, right?’ He suddenly seems unsure, bringing up one hand to bite on his fingernail.

‘Yes,’ Maggie laughs, drawing him into her side before kissing his temple. ‘You’re not calling me fat, I know. It is a good thing. A _great_ thing.’

He smiles up at her, one arm curling around her waist. ‘You doin’ okay then? Paul said you were resting, but-‘

‘I’m okay,’ she confirms. ‘It’s tiring, being pregnant, that’s all. He won’t let me sleep much, keeps kicking me. I think he missed his big brother.’

Daryl’s face lights up, ‘he’s kicking?’

‘A lot. I’ll tell you when he starts it up again, so you can feel it. Come, I need to get off these swollen ankles for a bit.’ She walks back to her room and Daryl follows. There’s a bounce in his step. It makes her laugh.

‘What?’

‘Nothing. I’ve missed you,’ she laces their fingers together. ‘How’s Beth doing?’

They head back to her room while he tells her about the work that Beth has been doing at the hospital, and how the rebuilding of Alexandria is getting along. The progress is slow, which infuriates Rick, but the wall is the most important part and it will be finished as soon as they can find the right materials.

He fills her in on how the Saviors are slowly integrating into Ezekiel’s community and tries to not sound bitter and angry about it. It must be working, because the smile doesn’t fade from her face.

They end up on the bed together, Maggie propped up by some pillows and Daryl just sprawled out beside her.

‘Did you see they’ve laid the foundation for the expansion?’ Maggie asks.

‘Nah, didn’t see nothing,’ he says while tracing the pattern on her blankets with his fingertips. ‘Just parked the bike and ran in here to find you. I’ll check it out later.’

‘I feel bad about hogging you like this,’ she says. ‘So many people are eager to welcome you home.’

‘They can wait a little while longer,’ Daryl smirks and he shifts closer to her. ‘Family first.’

‘I didn’t even greet Carl yet, maybe I should-‘

‘He’s busy sucking Enid’s face off, probably.’

Maggie laughs and swats at his head even though she says; ‘probably.’

‘Oh!’ He sits up quickly. ‘I got us sheep!’

‘You got us sheep?’

‘ _Yeah_!’ He folds his legs underneath him and tells her about the deal with the Kingdom. That they’re getting enough sheep to start their own farm in exchange for taking in more Saviors. He’s quick to promise to step up his hunting, setting more traps and teaching others how to do it, too. Now that he’s back, he can go out on runs as well. ‘Hope you ain’t mad,’ he mutters while rubbing with his knuckles over his cheek ‘Michonne checked the deal as well, like, after. So… she said it was good. That we could do it. And they’re not soldiers! Just workers, people who haven’t fought us. I don’t want them here, just... the workers are… that could work.’

Maggie nods. ‘Yes. It could.’

Daryl bites on his nail. ‘You don’t sound too happy.’

‘No. No,’ she reaches out and grabs his hand, pulling it away from his mouth. ‘I am. Happy, and proud, too, but also a bit confused. You’re willing to take in Saviors? When you left, you wanted to burn the expansion to the ground.’

‘Ain’t about what I want no more.’

‘Your opinion is important to me.’

Daryl huffs out a breath of laughter. ‘I want them to die screaming, you know that. All the soldiers, and Negan as the last one so he has to watch them burn. That’s what I think we should do to them, not give them a fucking home inside our walls.’ He shrugs and looks away. ‘But I don’t want to let you down, so… We’ll take them in. Do it your way.’

‘You want the soldiers to die, but not everyone else?’

‘Yeah. You were right about… his wives? Like – they did right by me. They tried to keep me away from him as much as they could, especially Sherry. It used to drive him up the wall, cursing up a storm if he couldn’t find me right away. She brought me ice cream once.’

‘ _Ice cream_?’

He smirks, ‘yeah. They wanted to give me something nice.’

Maggie smiles. ‘That’s good of them.’

‘Pfft,’ he falls onto his back again and stares up at the ceiling. ‘Was stupid. _Here’s some ice cream to feel better,_ ’ he says in a high-pitched voice. ‘Like – whatever.’

‘Sometimes little things like that do help to-‘

‘I was on fucking _suicide watch_. Ice cream don’t fix something like that.’

Maggie stares at him. There’s still so much he hasn’t told her.

‘Well, I thought you ‘nd Merle were fucking dead, so…’ he rolls off the bed so he won’t have to look at her. There are still some of his things littering the room from the last time he stayed here. A pencil on top of some sketches, one of his broken bolts kicked into a corner. If he opens the closet, he’s sure to find some shirts that will fit him fine.

‘Dare, come here.’ Maggie holds out her hand to him.

With a sigh, he walks back and takes it. His eyebrows shoot up when she tugs him closer and places his hand on her belly.

‘Wait – there!’ Maggie beams at him. ‘Did you feel it?’

Amazement floods Daryl’s body. He beams back, fingers twitching on her belly with excitement. ‘Yeah! Yeah, is that-‘

Maggie laughs, ‘yeah, it is.’

‘Whoa,’ the teenager sits down on the edge of her bed. ‘That’s amazing!’

‘You never felt Judith kick?’

‘Nah, Carl told me about it though. ‘s more something for – like – we weren’t really family back then, so I never did it. This is so cool though.’

Maggie reaches out and strokes his cheek. ‘I love you.’

‘Yeah, I love you, too.’ He beams and then bows his head, whispering against her belly, ‘and I love you, baby bro.’

 

 

An hour later, Daryl is sitting on top of the lower half of the stall door. He watches how Khamsin ignores him stubbornly. There’s an apple slice on the palm of his hand, just waiting for her, but she pretends that she doesn’t see it. Every time Daryl reaches for her, she darts away.

‘I didn’t abandon you,’ Daryl laughs. ‘Stop being dramatic, girl. You jealous of some stupid steel horse now? Come on. You know you want this,’ he holds out his hand with the apple slice. ‘Come on, sweetheart.’

She huffs and scrapes her hoof over the floor.

‘I know,’ Daryl nods. ‘I’m sorry. Stop this, or I’ll eat your apple.’ He brings his hand to his own mouth.

Khamsin darts forward to take it from him, almost biting his fingers by accident. The teenager lets her have it and laughs, rubbing the side of her neck and grabbing hold of the cheek piece she’s wearing to stay on top of the door. She’s trying to push him off.

‘I missed you, too. You been giving the guys here trouble, hmm? Yeah, that’s right.’ He scratches her between the ears and grins before glancing down the hallway. ‘Why’re you sneakin’ up on me? That shit don’t ever work.’

Paul is caught mid-step, frozen on the spot and grinning. ‘ _Actually_ ,’ he unfreezes and walks over to lean against the stable door next to Daryl, ‘it worked a couple of times.’

‘A _couple_?’

‘First time we met, when I snuck out of the house at Alexandria, when-‘

‘Oh, what- fucking – _ever_ , man,’ Daryl laughs. He shoves the man’s shoulder. ‘You’re an idiot. Did you look after Khamsin for me? She looks good. All shiny, huh?’ he scratches his horse again, ‘so clean! Yeah!’

‘She hates me,’ Paul says. ‘I tried to take her on a run. Let’s just say that she tried to go alone.’

‘She threw you?’

Paul laughs and nods. ‘She _hates_ me. Dante has been taking care of her - one of the guards. It took him a while to win her trust though, so she’s been outside a lot. Nobody managed to get her inside and we didn’t want to ask Maggie.’

‘That’s fine, she hates being inside,’ Daryl says. ‘Did you ever ride a horse before all this?’

‘Not really,’ Paul admits. ‘On a holiday, once. It wasn’t really horseback riding though. Someone held the reins and I just had to stay on, which was hard enough. I think I was eight or something. I’ve been trying to learn now, but I’m still not the best at it.’

‘Khamsin is a bad horse for beginners, she’s real stubborn.’

‘Like her owner,’ Paul grins, leaning against him for a second. ‘I hoped our mutual desire to be outside of the walls would bring us together, but she decided she didn’t need me when the gates opened. They closed it in time again,’ he says when Daryl looks scared for a moment. ‘Don’t worry, she didn’t escape.’

Daryl sighs with relief even though his horse is safe and sound in front of him. She’s currently trying to get into his pockets in search of more treats. ‘Aaron and I once found a horse outside of the walls. Buttons. Some kids named it,’ he explains when Paul raises an eyebrow at him. ‘It got caught out by some walkers. Was torn to fucking pieces.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl kicks his boots against the door. ‘It was hard to watch. We wanted to help, but it wouldn’t let us. Fucking sucked.’ He glances over his shoulder, ‘if you ever want to try again, you better grab Swanky. He’s calmer.’

‘ _Swanky_?’ Paul follows his gaze to the black horse behind them. It’s looking out of the window on the other side, tail flicking lazily to get rid of some annoying flies.

‘Suits ya,’ the Dixon chuckles. ‘They found him in some fancy-ass place, the one that has golden nametags for the horses on the doors, right? It’s supposed to have a famous bloodline or something. Beth says he would have cost a fucking fortune in the old world, maybe he was a show horse or something. Now he’s just chillin’. ‘s why we called him Swanky.’

‘And you think that suits me?’

Daryl laughs. ‘Well… I just mean- err..’

Paul props his chin up with his hand and looks up at him. ‘Oh I can’t _wait_ to hear you try and back out of this.’

‘Well, I meant the _chill horse_ , not the name. Swanky? Nah, that ain’t you, right, but… ahw fuck it, you _totally_ used to be some rich bastard! Your dad was a lawyer, your mom an engineer or whatever, you had ten nannies watching your little ass growin’ up,’ Daryl laughs. ‘Your house probably had fifty rooms, ten bathrooms and two libraries!’

A strange look flashes over Paul’s features. ‘What makes you think that?’

The teenager shrugs. ‘I don’t know. You know martial arts, right? That’s some rich people stuff right there. We learned to fight in the streets, not some fancy gym.’

‘Dojo,’ Paul corrects. ‘A gym for martial arts is called a dojo, and mine was part of the community center, so it wasn’t fancy.’

Daryl narrows his eyes and stays silent for a moment as if recalculating. ‘So you were either slummin’ it, or…’

Paul shrugs. He fidgets with his hands for a moment, one thumb rubbing between his knuckles. Then he takes a deep breath and looks away. ‘I didn’t grow up like that. We lived in a small city, just your average working- class American life. I didn’t –‘ he digs his nail into the skin of his hand, ‘I didn’t start martial arts until child protection services placed me in a group home. The group leader thought it would help me gain some confidence.’

Daryl shifts on the door so he can face the other man properly. ‘A group home?’

‘Yeah, it’s for when you can’t stay home any longer and-‘

‘I know what it is,’ Daryl cuts in. ‘My teacher said some would go to Disneyland once a year.’ He shrugs when Paul tilts his head to the side in question, ‘guess they thought I would rat on my dad if I got a free ticket. Didn’t work. Rollercoasters kind of freak me out.’

Paul huffs out a breath of laughter. ‘Really?’

‘Nah, just tryin’ to make you smile.’

The scout shakes his head fondly. ‘I appreciate that.’

Daryl chews on his nail for a bit. ‘So… did it work? Doing ninja tricks for a confidence boost?’

‘It did,’ Paul nods. He hoists himself up on the door as well, eyeing Khamsin warily for a moment but the horse ignores him. ‘I walked in there as a skinny, frail ten year old and I walked out a black belt. It taught me I wasn’t stupid, or weak, or helpless. That I can do anything I set my mind to.’

‘That’s cool,’ the teenager says. He hesitates for a moment, glancing at the man through his bangs. ‘Did you like it? – I mean, at the group home?’

For a moment, he thinks that he has crossed a line, that the conversation is getting way too personal. The scout glances at the exit with something like longing, fingers going white on the door as if he needs to anchor himself. A deep breath. Then another. And then the blue eyes meet his once more.

‘I liked parts of it. The people were nice to me, I could do martial arts, there wasn’t – it was quiet. There wasn’t this constant chaos like back home, I didn’t have to be on my toes all the time. I liked that. I am kind of jealous now of other homes though, we never went to Disneyland.’

Daryl snorts. He rubs at a stain on his jeans. ‘Maybe I should have gone after all. I could have met Minnie Mouse before it all went to shit, man.’

Paul laughs out loud, head tilting back for a second and eyes closed, the skin around them crinkling. His heavy boots thud against the door. His eyes shine when he opens them again. ‘They were mostly sweaty college students stuffed into a furry suit, so I think you lucked out, actually.’

‘Yeah, maybe.’

The man glances at him. ‘Did you ever regret not telling anyone and getting out of there?’

‘No,’ Daryl rubs at his knee again. ‘It wasn’t _too_ bad or anything. My dad loved me something fierce.’

He’s glad that Paul just nods. ‘Yeah,’ he says, ‘mine didn’t. He _hated_ me. He never put his hands on me, but… it messed me up anyway. So I was.. well, not _happy_ , more _relieved_ to go to the group home. It was a pretty good place, all things considered. Hilltop always reminds me of it.’

‘This place?’ Daryl asks with a frown because he can’t imagine something being further removed from the trailer he grew up in. ‘Why?’

‘People are always coming and going,’ Paul says. He looks at his boots and then at the exit again. ‘I was in that home for years. There aren’t many people who want to adopt an angry teenager with trust issues. Some kids would only be there for a couple of weeks before their own family could take them back, others got adopted, others just needed to sit out a couple of months before they turned sixteen and could leave on their own. The staff kept rotating, too. In the end I didn’t even bother to learn any of their names anymore. I was there, but... not really.’ The scout looks at Daryl, ‘I did the same thing here. I made sure I didn’t get too close to people.’

Daryl shoots him a shy smile. ‘Ain’t like that no more.’

Paul smiles back. He reaches out and puts his hand on Daryl’s knee, squeezing it. ‘No. It isn’t. I’m really glad you’re back, Daryl.’

 

 

The sky is so blue that it almost hurts his eyes. A haze of heat hangs over the fields and he almost regrets taking a dip in the creek earlier. His hair is still wet, droplets running down his neck, chest and back. They soak the waistband of his jeans and underwear. His shirt and vest are drying on Khamsin’s saddle. His hand is twisted in her reins as they walk through the fields, back to Hilltop Colony. They pass where the expansion was supposed to be. It will be built within the walls for now. There aren’t enough materials available for both Alexandria, their new wall _and_ the expansion. They’re going to have to live in close quarters for a while.

It doesn’t matter that much to him anymore. He’ll just keeps his head down from now on, do his chores and duties, and try to ignore the anger clawing inside his chest whenever he sees a Savior. He’ll follow Maggie.

The sight of Hilltop’s gate makes him smile. The guards whistle and he whistles back, one hand on the strap of his crossbow, the other holding onto Khamsin’s reins to lead her through the gate. It rattles when it opens. Sometimes it still spooks her, but today she follows him without a fuss.

‘Daryl!’ Alex is standing on the steps of the medical trailer, one hand shielding his eyes from the glaring sun. He’s Hilltop’s nurse, always working besides Harlan and Beth to care for their patients. Daryl doesn’t know him very well, has only really seen him during the dark nights of the war, when he’d sit in a corner of the trailer, praying that the wounds of his friends weren’t life-threatening. He remembers Alex’s hand on his shoulder, that kind smile making the night seem not that dark.

He raises his hand in greeting.

‘Come see me before you head towards the house!’

He sticks his thumb up and leads Khamsin to the stables. As soon as she figures out where they’re going, she stops moving.

‘Ahw, no,’ Daryl moans as he slumps against her side. ‘Don’t start givin’ me sass now, too. You’ll get to stand in the shade! Ain’t no shade out there, girly. Come on. I promise I’ll come let you out when it’s cooler. Yeah? Yeah! There’s a good girl.’ He kisses her neck and tugs her forward, pleased that she follows him.

It’s cooler inside the barn, but not by much. The clacking of her hooves causes the other horses to neigh in greeting. Some kick against the doors.

‘Easy, easy,’ a voice comes. A man walks past the doors with a shovel on his shoulder. ‘There’s the culprit,’ he smiles when he spots Khamsin. Then his gaze wanders to Daryl, ‘oh! Hey man.’

‘Good morning, Dante,’ Daryl nods.

‘Want me to take her in? I can brush her down and all. My other chores are done for the day.’

Daryl hesitates. ‘Nah, I can do it…’

‘But I’m offering,’ the man says as he holds out his hand for the reins.

Daryl passes them over. ‘Okay.’ He grabs his vest and shirt from the saddle. ‘Oh – Paul said you looked after her while I were at the Kingdom. Thanks. She looks real good.’

‘You’re welcome. She was a little minx in the beginning, but she came around. Isn’t that right, gorgeous?’ the man strokes the horse’s neck. ‘I got her. Is it okay if I turn her out later?’

‘Sure.’ Daryl bites on his fingernail for a moment and then starts to head out again. ‘A’right – thanks again!’

‘Any time!’

 The medical trailer is on the other side of the main road. Everyone is out and about, but unlike at the Kingdom, nobody really stares at him. Some gazes linger on his bare upper body, eyes only averting when he raises an eyebrow. Everyone has scars. He refuses to be ashamed of his. He kicks the door of the trailer and waits until Alex opens it.

‘Ah, Come in, Daryl. Can you take something up to Barrington for me?’ He grabs a bottle with pills from the shelf. ‘They’re for Maggie.’

Daryl takes it and studies the faded label. ‘Is she okay?’

‘Yes,’ Alex assures him. ‘They’re just vitamins. It’s important that she takes them though. There’s something else I wanted to ask you.’ He gestures to the small table in the corner. ‘We’ve been trying to use more herbal medicines, and we need a couple of ingredients still. It says they should be growing in this area, and a little further south, but I’ve never seen them before. That doesn’t say much,’ he pulls a face and Daryl snorts, ‘I’m not an outdoors-kind of guy, but you are. Can you have a look? Maybe you know where to find them?’

Daryl sits down at the table, ‘yeah, sure.’ He puts his crossbow down next to his feet and studies the pictures in Alex’s book. There’s one he recognizes right away, but it grew near the prison and he hasn’t seen it since. Others he’s not sure about. ‘That grows near the swamp,’ he says as he points at the little white flowers. ‘It’s not too far from here. I can get it for you when I go out huntin’ tomorrow.’

‘That would be great, Daryl. I want to-‘

The door behind them opens suddenly and Paul hops into the trailer, ‘hey Alex, are you free – oh! Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had a patient.’

Daryl turns slightly in his seat to face the scout.

Paul’s gaze lingers on his bare arms and chest.

‘You would have, if you’d knocked,’ Alex says as he stands up. ‘You can’t just barge in here, Jesus! I’ve told you a hundred times already!’

‘I’m sorry,’ Paul repeats, finally dragging his gaze to the nurse. ‘You’re right.’

‘Ain’t no patient anyway,’ Daryl says as he turns back to the book, trying to think of where he’d seen the herbs on the next page, ‘so you’re fine.’

‘It’s _not_ fine,’ Alex stressed but the irritation leaves his posture when he looks at the scout. ‘We’ll be done in a couple of minutes. He knows where to get some of the herbs.’

‘I told you he would,’ Paul says with a sly grin. ‘Do I have to wait outside, or…’

Daryl kicks the chair across from him  so the scout can sit on it but doesn’t look up. ‘Almost done. I think this grew… Shit, I know I’ve seen it someplace. Closer to Oceanside, I think. Near that bridge... I’m pretty sure. Yeah – say it grows near salt water, too. Must have been right there. I can get it for you.’

Paul and Alex sit down at the table. The nurse talks excitedly about what they’re going to make with the herbs and flowers. He suggests asking Maggie how to dig out the plants so he can bring them back here, though it wouldn’t work with all of them. They have no salt water here, Daryl points out, but maybe Oceanside can start growing it. It’ll be another trade deal.

‘Yeah!’ Alex beams. ‘That’s a great idea, right, Jesus?’

Daryl looks up when the scout stays silent. He seems to be lost in thought, eyes distant but on the younger man’s chest.

‘Jesus?’ Alex prompts again.

Daryl brings up his hand to grasp the pendants of his necklaces, which are resting on his sternum. He looks down at his own chest, too. The scars are a little darker than his own skin, some mere slashes and other raised, deeper and darker. Paul must have seen them before, and he doesn’t seem to be horrified by them in any way, but he’s still staring. The movement of his hand seems to finally jerk Paul out of his daze.

‘What?’

Alex leans back in his chair. ‘I said; asking Oceanside to grow some of the herbs for us is a good idea.’

‘Yes, it is,’ Paul nods. ‘I’ll discuss it with Maggie, see what we can trade.’

‘I’ll do it,’ Daryl gets up. ‘I was on my way to go see her anyway. She knows when to take the vitamins and everything, right Alex?’

‘Yes, she’s been using them for a while now. Thank you, Daryl.’

‘No problem,’ he grabs his crossbow again and opens the door of the trailer ‘See you around, Alex. Later, Paul.’

Just before the door closes he hears Alex say, ‘ _Paul_? Nobody calls you _Paul_.’

He thinks about that while he heads over to Barrington House. It’s true that not many people refer to the scout by his given name. Everyone calls him Jesus. When they met, Paul had told him that his friends call him Jesus, and he hadn’t wanted to be friends with the guy. Maybe he should start using the nickname, too.

Barrington is quiet as he walks up the grand staircase. The door to Enid’s room is open and his name is being called when he passes. Carl is lying on the bed. He points at his bandage.

‘Yup,’ Daryl nods, ‘I’ll come do it in a sec, just gotta grab a shirt and give something to Maggie.’

Ten minutes later, he’s cleaning his brother’s eye socket. The wound doesn’t bother him anymore. It’s just another scar. He puts his fingers under Carl’s chin to tilt his head up, inspecting his own work. ‘All done. We gotta find you one of those eyepatches, man. Head into Washington, find a store that sells costumes and shit? You could be a goddamn pirate.’

‘Ha ha.’

‘I’m serious! Well… Not the pirate part,’ he laughs, ‘but an eyepatch like that? Might be better than these bandages. It’s fully healed, right? So… why not get you a badass leather one or something? Bet someone would be able to make it here.’

‘Maybe,’ Carl allows. ‘But I don’t want to look like a pirate.’

‘They’re badass though.’

His brother gives him a look.

‘Oh no,’ Daryl laughs, ‘we’re not getting into that again. Pirates _are_ better than ninja’s.’

Another voice cuts in. ‘Jesus will be sad to hear it, Dare,’ Enid grins as she plops down on the bed.

Carl quickly brings one hand up to cover his eye.

Daryl shoots Enid a grin, ‘Paul can go cry a fucking river about it. Pirates are way cooler. Oh – Maggie asked for you, she’s in her room.’

Enid eyes him for a moment and then looks at Carl, who is pointedly staring at his own boots. His hair covers most of his face. ‘Right,’ she says as she gets up. ‘I’ll be back in a few then.’

As soon as she’s out of the room, Daryl grabs the clean bandages and helps Carl to put it back on. ‘She hasn’t seen it yet, then?’

‘Of course not,’ Carl snaps. ‘It’s disgusting.’

‘Ain’t worse than the rest of your face, and she seems to like that fine, brother.’

Carl punches him in the stomach.

Daryl laughs.

They quiet down when Enid’s footsteps come back down the hallway. She leans against the doorpost with her arms crossed in front of her chest. ‘Maggie didn’t ask for me.’

‘She didn’t?’ Daryl asks as he lounges on her bed. ‘Oh. My bad.’

She rolls her eyes, ‘you could have just asked me to turn around or something, Carl! Or you could just let me see it!’

‘Don’t start,’ Carl mutters as he takes the dirty bandages and balls them up.

Daryl rolls off the bed, ‘I ain’t getting in the middle of this. You try to talk some sense into him, girl. I’ve been trying for years. It’s your turn.’

 

  

It’s midnight when Paul finds him in the large dining room of Barrington house. It’s more a command center now, with building plans of the expansion littering the tables, as well as lists of things they need from runs. The battle plans have been swept aside. He’s not sure how long Paul has been standing in the door opening. A floorboard creaks under the man’s boots and it’s not by accident. Paul smiles as he lifts his boot up again, knowing exactly which spot makes a noise.

‘Hey,’ Daryl rubs at his eyes and sits back in the chair. There’s a single oil lamp burning beside him on the table. It casts strange shadows on his sketchbook.

‘Hey,’ Paul says softly as he walks over and sits down next to him. ‘Claire said you were up for a nightshift later? You don’t have to – there are others who-‘

‘Maggie already gave me the speech, don’t worry about it.’ He plucks the baseball cap from his head and runs his hand through the dark hair. ‘I slept from afternoon until just now. I’m good, man.’

‘But does she know you’re planning on going out to hunt after your shift?’

‘Not if you don’t tell her,’ Daryl grins.

‘Daryl.’

‘Get off my ass, Paul,’ he laughs softly, kicking the man’s boots. ‘I’m not a kid anymore. I know what I can and can’t do. Already got Maggie all over me, I don’t need it from you.’

Paul sighs and then lies down on the table, arms folded under his head as he looks at his friend with his eyes half-closed. He’s sleepy, Daryl realizes with a burst of fondness. It would be easy to reach out and touch his rosy cheek, or tuck a strand of hair behind his slightly reddened ear. He doesn’t though.

‘What’re you drawing?’ Paul murmurs.

Daryl groans and slumps to the side, mirroring Paul’s posturing, but only using one arm to rest his head on so he can shove his sketchbook towards the scout. ‘You’re always catching me red-handed, man. ‘s not fair.’

Paul looks at the drawing. It’s his face. Close up and detailed, just the side of it. He smiles when he realizes it’s how Daryl sees him most often nowadays, from when they’re standing side by side on the wall to watch over their community. ‘That’s really good, Daryl,’ he tells him.

‘I drew others,’ the teenager says quickly, reaching for the notebook and forcing Paul to flip to the next couple of pages. There’s Merle mid-laughter, just a faint sketch of Maggie, a couple of lines enough to draw her image now. Enid, too; clenching a knife between her teeth but the skin around her eyes crinkling with laughter. ‘So it ain’t just you.’

‘So I’m nothing special, is what you’re saying.’

‘No! I mean – oh fuck you,’ the young man laughs softly. ‘Just didn’t want it to be weird.’

‘We’ll always be weird, Daryl.’

The younger man looks up, peeks at the man from behind his bangs. He rubs at his nose. ‘Yeah?’

Paul nods. ‘Yeah.’

‘Is that a good thing?’

‘I honestly don’t know,’ Paul says softly. He slowly reaches out over the sketchbook. Daryl watches with baited breath how the scout laces their fingers together. A hesitant smile breaks through when Paul squeezes his hand and then just holds it. Daryl rubs his thumb over the scout’s.

Paul smiles back.

 

 


	13. Low blow

 

* * *

 

 

‘I don’t know, man! How am I supposed to know?’ Daryl cries out as he hides his quickly reddening face behind his hands. ‘Go ask your dad!’

‘I can’t ask _dad_!’ Carl gasps, sounding almost outraged at the mere thought.

‘Michonne then, since she’s your _best friend_!’ the Dixon boy mocks, still salty about that. He swats some water at his brother, who is floating in front of him in the pond, his arms folded and hands behind his back. They’ve worked at the construction site all day and are now enjoying the cool water.

Carl splutters and swims over to him. ‘Aahw,’ he croons, ‘do you feel left out? Replaced?’ He tries to grab hold of his brother’s cheek to pinch it teasingly.

Daryl bats his hand away. ‘Maybe I just want to see you ask Michonne _that_ question – you know what? I _double dog dare_ you to ask her! We should radio her tonight, and I’m gonna make some goddamn popcorn, get me some nasty powdered lemonade and just watch you crash and burn, man. It’s gonna be a good time.’

‘You suck,’ Carl laughs. He pushes himself away from the bank again, drifting in the clear water.

His brother is sitting cross-legged on the ground. They’ve decided that it’s better for one to be on guard duty. There’s a walker lying in the bushes somewhere with one of Daryl’s old bolts sticking out of its forehead. Another is near the path, its eye blown out by Carl’s silenced pistol.

The sun is setting. The sky is a dark purple, mixing with blue and black, almost reminding them of bruises. It has been their first day at the construction site, sawing planks and carrying them over to the framework that is slowly coming together. Mixing sand and water and gravel by hand under the hot southern sun.

Even though he doesn’t like the aim they’re working towards, Daryl does like the work. The woman who is overseeing the construction doesn’t mind him asking a lot of questions during his water breaks. About what kind of wood they’re supposed to use, what a dado joint is and when they should use a lap dovetail joint instead. She teaches him when nails will do and when they really need bolts. It not only teaches him a lot about construction, but also makes him more aware about what kind of resources they will need in the future.

‘But seriously,’ Carl suddenly speaks up, ‘how do you know?’

‘Dude,’ Daryl sighs and falls onto his back to look up at the quickly darkening sky, ‘you can’t even show her your messed up eye, how are you gonna show her your dick, huh?’

‘It’s different because there isn’t anything wrong with my dick, man! It’s – _huge_.’

‘Yeah right,’ Daryl snorts while Carl laughs, 'but I don’t know, I think you just sort of… know? Like – maybe it sort of happens? That you’re both like... _yeah_ …. You know?’ He frowns, ‘or you should just ask. That’s what Glenn did.’

‘Glenn asked Maggie to have sex with him?’

‘Well he _tried_. She took pity on him, was all; _yeah_. So… Maybe it’s like that with some people. Lord knows Will or Merle never fucking asked nothing, so I really don’t know.’

Carl hums and swims back to the bank, hanging onto it so he doesn’t have to keep himself afloat. ‘But she’s my girlfriend already, and we make out _all the time_.’

Daryl lifts himself to his elbows just to raise a mocking eyebrow at his brother.

‘We do!’

‘ _Ooh, my dick is huge and we make out all the time_ ,’ Daryl echoes in a high-pitched voice, ‘ _but I don’t know how to ask if she wants to touch my dick some_. You’re such a fucking idiot, Grimes.’ He laughs when Carl hoists himself out of the water and crawls over to him, lying side by side, staring up at the darkening sky.

‘At least I _have_ a girlfriend,’ Carl mutters.

‘Low blow,’ Daryl says as he reaches over to flick his brother’s ear.

Carl sighs. ‘Sorry. You could have a girlfriend – or a boyfriend, if you wanted to. Back at the kingdom? They wouldn’t shut up about you. _Ooh, Dare Dixon_ ,’ he pretends to giggle, wriggling around as if trying to hide his blushing cheeks. He laughs when his brother stomps him. ‘Auch. Okay. But I’m serious, you totally could! Lilly made you a pie, that guy from the farm wouldn’t stop drooling over you…’

‘They don’t know me.’

‘That’s the whole point of dating, Dare. It’s to get to know the other person.’

Daryl shakes his head and sits up, plucking at his bottom lip.

‘What?’ Carl sits up, too. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing, you done? We should head back, it’s getting dark and I still need to do that shit with Aaron, so…’ Daryl gets up and stands guard while Carl gets dressed.

They walk side by side through the dark woods. The moon casts strange shadows on their faces while conjuring the forest back to life with shifting shadows and noises that seem too loud to just be small animals scurrying away. Swinging branches look like reaching fingers, leaves are whispers in the night. Their footsteps are silent as they make their way back home. Each of them glad to have the other by his side.

‘How do you…’ Daryl starts and then wipes his nose on the back of his hand, a nervous gesture he can’t seem to shake. ‘How do you even _start_ explaining any of this to someone new? _Hi, I’m Daryl Dixon, I’ve murdered so many people that I’ve lost count and some didn’t deserve it. My brother is still alive, and I’ve found a new one that ain’t blood, too. And I’m Rick’s, but Rick ain’t mine, and that’s Maggie – I fucking got her husband killed, but I’m still her son._ ’ Daryl shakes his head and aims a kick at a tree trunk. ‘Fucking bullshit.’

Carl looks at him in the dark. ‘Maybe that’s the upside to meeting new people; you get to decide what they know. Everyone has done shit to get here. To be alive today. You won’t have to explain that.’

‘They’ll find out. Everyone always does,’ Daryl rubs a hand over the scar that slashes his collarbone.

‘Is that why you didn’t want to hang out with Lilly? So you won’t have to tell her anything about yourself?’

Daryl scoffs.

Carl shrugs and puts his hands in the pockets of his jeans. ‘It’s either that or dating someone you already know, and you better stay the fuck away from Enid, brother.’

‘You think I’m like that?’

‘I think you don’t stand a chance!’

Daryl laughs, ‘why? Because your dick is huge, huh?’

Carl laughs, too. ‘Yeah!’ They fall into step beside each other again.

After a couple of steps, Daryl glances at his friend, ‘you know I ain’t like that though, right?’

‘Oh my god,’ Carl laughs as he slings his arm around his brother’s shoulders, tugging him close. ‘ _Yes, Dare_. I know that you won’t try to steal my girlfriend. That sounds more like something Merle would do, anyway. It was just a joke.’

Daryl puts his arm around his waist when Carl doesn’t pull away. His brother is about an inch taller than him, but he’s glad that his shoulders are definitely broader. He’s not sure why that would matter though, but it does, to him.

‘What about Jesus?’ Carl asks suddenly. ‘You guys hang out all the time.’

Daryl laughs and pinches him. ‘Shut up.’

‘What? I’m serious!’

‘I should date Paul?’ Daryl smirks. ‘Paul – _I’m very flattered but no_ – Rovia? You just want to see me crash and burn again. Fuck you, man. Nah. We’re friends.’

‘Whatever you say, brother,’ Carl laughs. ‘Oh! Cyndie! You could date Cyndie!’

‘Can we go back to your pathetic attempts to get laid now?’

‘But you’re so cute when you blush,’ Carl reaches out to pinch his cheek again. It ends in a make-shift wrestling match with the both of them on the ground, trying to pin the other down but only managing to grab hold of an arm or leg before being thrown on their backs again. After a minute, they both freeze.

Footsteps in the forest.

Daryl relaxes and gets off Carl, helping him stand. ‘Walker,’ he mutters because he can tell the difference between walkers and people. Carl takes out his knife but follows his brother, who leads him through the darkness homewards without a backwards glance at the damned.

 

 

Daryl chews on the end of his pencil and glances at the other side of the room. The fire is roaring now that it’s dark, and in the flickering light, a group of people are playing a card game. Enid is sitting with Maggie. She holds their cards close to her chest because Paul is nearby. The scout always cheats. Daryl smiles when Maggie throws her head back to laugh loudly while Enid giggles.

‘Try to focus, Dare. We can go to my room if they’re too distracting.’

‘No, no – it’s okay. Sorry,’ he flashes Aaron a shy smile. ‘It’s just – it’s been a while since I’ve seen her laugh like that. Okay. I got this. So…’ he sighs and tries to focus on the words Aaron has scribbled down on a piece of paper. ‘Okay. A training session with Morgan will cost twelve dollars if three people attend,’ he reads out loud. ‘How much will it cost if four people attend? Like – _what_?’

Aaron leans on his elbows. ‘You know how to solve this. Come on, dare.’

‘But…’

‘Assume the relationship is directly proportional.’

‘Assume the – _what_?’ He lets his forehead fall onto his paper. ‘I hate math.’

‘This is eight grade stuff, Dare, come on,’ Aaron urges.

‘Well – _excuse me_ ,’ Daryl grouses, ‘but the apocalypse happened and I never been to fucking eighth grade, man! This is fucking bullshit, Morgan wouldn’t ever charge us anyway. I don’t – ooh,’ he sits up suddenly. ‘I know how to do it. So… Twelve divided by… erm – by three, right? That’s…that’s four.’

Aaron’s face doesn’t give anything away. ‘So what does four mean?’

‘What does four – I don’t know… Four dollar!’

‘Four dollar for what? You’re guessing, stop it. Read the question again.’

Daryl sighs and reads the question again. ‘It’s hard because it’s like – it’s not even just math.’

‘No – it’s reading, and you’re better at it than you think. Focus. You’ve divided twelve by three, why?’

‘Because there are three people, right? Oh. Right. So they have to pay four bucks a person. So if there are four fuckers joining the damn class, then… four times four. Morgan is making sixteen bucks. There.’

‘ _Yes_!’ Aaron laughs and claps in his hands. ‘Well done! See? That was easy, you just need to focus. Okay, let’s go back to this,’ he draws a triangle on the piece of paper and Daryl groans loudly, sinking deep in his chair while shaking his head.

‘Not that shit again. I don’t need to know that, man! If I want to know – like – how long the side of a goddamn triangle is, I’ll fucking whip a measuring tape out! I don’t need this A squared, everything squared bullshit. I _don’t_ , man.’

‘You do, and you’ll do it right now,’ Aaron shoves a calculator into his direction. ‘Just one more problem, and then you can go hang out with them. Promise.’

‘You’re the devil and I hate you,’ Daryl grumbles as he pulls the paper towards him and tries to figure out what the hell he’s supposed to do. ‘Can’t believe it’s the end of the goddamn world, and you’re making me do math. This is so unfair, my God.’

Aaron grins and puts a warm hand on his shoulder, ‘complaining about it won’t solve your equation. Get to work. Focus,’ he says when the teenager just starts scribbling numbers down, ‘that’s not squared. Squared doesn’t mean times two, remember?’

Daryl sighs and crosses the first part out to start over again. They’ve been practicing every night before he goes to bed. It started with Daryl asking him a question about the building plans, and the fact that he wasn’t sure how scaling actually works. The gap in his basic knowledge had become painfully clear when Aaron had tried to explain. It has now become the man’s mission to educate him on his favorite subject when he’d been in school; math. And geometry, specifically. It had embarrassed Daryl in the beginning, wrecking his brain to try to recall the multiplication tables and getting it wrong more often than right while the other adults snickered at his attempts. Aaron is very patient though, and he hardly ever laughs at his mistakes, so now he doesn’t mind so much to do his sums with him.

‘How is he getting on?’

Daryl looks up to smile at Maggie, who is sharing a look with Aaron.

‘Slow but steady,’ the man says.

Daryl stomps him. ‘Asshole.’

‘Respect your teacher, and you forgot the last step, you can’t just pretend that X isn’t squared anymore,’ Aaron says as he points at the paper. ‘Focus and finish.’

Suddenly there’s someone leaning against the back of Daryl’s chair, two hands come to rest upon his shoulders. He doesn’t need to look behind him to see who it is. Instead, he jabs his elbow back to get Paul to move backwards. ‘Go away, you’re not helping.’

‘And why’s that?’ Paul asks with a sly smirk as he pushes the elbow away and leans in, his head almost coming to rest on the shoulder. His breath tickles Daryl’s ear. ‘I’m not distracting you, am I?’

‘Just give me two seconds and then I can give you a black eye for being a dick, okay?’ Daryl grouses as he rubs at his nose, trying to figure out what he’s supposed to about that last row of numbers. ‘I need to solve this first.’

‘Take the square root of –‘

‘Jesus,’ Maggie snaps suddenly. ‘Let him do it. He’s perfectly capable of solving it himself.’

Daryl quickly punches the numbers into his calculator before scribbling the answer down. He grins at Aaron, ‘there, x is ten. Solved it.’

‘Jesus solved it!’

The Dixon grins as he gets up, ‘he can’t help it. Jesus saves, right?’ He laughs when Paul throws his arm around his shoulders, leaning onto him while smirking at Aaron, ‘sorry,' the scout says but nobody believes that he means it.

‘Thanks for the lesson,’ Daryl says because he really does appreciate it even though he hates the subject. ‘Can I try one more of these tomorrow before we do the new stuff? To make sure I remember the square root thingy.’

Aaron nods, ‘that’s a good id-‘

‘Ey, Dixon,’ a small group of men and women walk past. The poker game is probably over and most of them are heading to their beds. ‘What’s two times two? Or are you still at the table of one?’

Before Daryl can say something, Paul pulls his arm away from his shoulder to take a step into their direction. ‘Leave him alone,’ the scout says sharply, voice so cold that it causes Daryl to shiver.

One of the men lifts his hands in mock surrender. ‘whoa, Jesus! Calm down. It was just a joke.’

‘Nobody is laughing,’ Paul says as he folds his arms in front of his chest. ‘And you were supposed to relieve the guard up in the tower half an hour ago. We’ll just add two more nightshifts to your roster this week, so you can practice being on time for once.’

‘What the hell? That ain’t fair, man!’

Daryl gathers his papers and calculator. ‘It was just a joke, Paul. He didn’t mean nothing.’

‘Then he shouldn’t have said anything.’ Paul lifts an eyebrow. ‘I’d hurry if I were you,’ he tells the man. ‘The clock’s ticking.’

Daryl watches the man slink away, grumbling under his breath about how unfair that was. ‘Didn’t know you could be such a dick,’ he mutters before looking up at Maggie. ‘Is it okay if I hang out with Carl? Or did you need me for something?’

Maggie tears her gaze away from Paul, a frown marring her face. ‘What? No – that’s fine. Don’t stay up too late though. Jesus? Can I talk to you?’

He doesn’t wait to hear the rest of that conversation. Instead, he just grips Aaron’s shoulder to squeeze it before running up the staircase to go find his brother.

 

 

 

The gas station and diner are about two hours away by car. It was early in the morning when they left, but the sun is up now and the temperature is rising steadily. Daryl has his boots on the dashboard and his cap on the right way for once to shield his eyes from the glaring rays. He’s fidgeting with one of his bolts. The crossbow is on the floor of the car, and he’s wearing his thigh holster and two knives. One wickedly sharp and long, the other gleaming and adorned with wild flowers on the grip.

The song changes and Paul shifts in his seat, fingers going to the skip button on the radio.

‘What the hell, man? We’ve listened to your jazz bullshit for half an hour!’ Daryl moves his boot so it looks like he’s ready to kick the man’s hand away.

Paul glances at him. ‘You like this?’

‘Yeah, so?’

The scout laughs, ‘no way. You like rockabilly?’

‘If that is this, then yeah!’

Paul stops the car, kills the engine and shifts in his seat so he can look at the young man lounging next to him. ‘We need to talk.’

Daryl sucks on his teeth, ‘put the music back on, Paul. I ain’t joking around.’

‘No – I – I understand, Daryl,’ Paul says gravely, putting his hand on his friend’s shoulder. ‘All those runs with Rick? Blasting his godawful music… it left you traumatized, but I need you to understand this; you _don’t_ like rockabilly music. You don’t. Your family raised you better than that. Well – except for Rick, of course, but-‘

‘Oh you’re one to talk! What were we listening to just now? Huh? Some guy trying to have sex with his goddamn saxophone? That’s what it sounded like!’

Paul shakes his head and turns the engine back on, pulling out onto the road again. ‘Hopeless. Next thing you know you’re going to tell me you like country music as well.’

Daryl tilts his head back and hits the skip button with his boot. There’s a soft whirring sound as another CD is loaded and then a guitar starts playing. He starts sniggering the moment Paul seems to realize what’s going on. The blue eyes go wide, his mouth falls open as he listens to the music. ‘No! You actually brought a country CD? _No_. Daryl, this is basic road trip etiquette! The driver gets to pick the music!’

‘Then let me drive!’

‘I actually want to get there.’

‘Oh – _haha_ , now you’re listening to the whole fucking album, asshole,’ Daryl laughs. He closes his eyes and lets his head rest against the glass. Last night he’d been up late with Enid and Carl, reading their comics and making up new card games with rules that were too complicated to remember. So he had actually been glad when Paul had automatically gone for the driver’s seat. He has driven plenty of cars by now. Most of them are automatic, which makes them even easier to drive than his bike, but he doesn’t feel too confident when still half asleep. Instead, he’d curled up on the passenger’s seat, dozing like a cat in the sunshine. He’s more alert now, but the heat always makes him sleepy. He rolls down his window and stretches. ‘Have you ever been on a road trip?’

Paul glances at him. ‘A road trip? Yes. A couple.’

‘Where’d you go?’

The scout shrugs. ‘The next state usually. A couple of states over once when we tried to get to Canada. We stranded in the state of New York, just me and three friends. Out of money, food – everything. It was a disaster.’

Daryl smirks at him. ‘How’d you get back?’

‘They called their parents for some gas money. I don’t even know what we were thinking, trying to drive all the way to Canada with – a hundred bucks or something. Maybe we thought it wasn’t that far?’ Paul laughs and shakes his head. ‘Stupid.’

‘Sounds kinda dumb, yeah.’ Daryl laughs when Paul reaches over to flick his baseball cap. ‘What? It does! What about the other times?’

‘Most were just vacations with friends – oh, I took a road trip once to college.’

‘You went to college?’

‘Well – yeah, but a local one. I took a road trip with my – er, with my boyfriend at the time,’ Paul says quickly. ‘He went to some fancy college upstate, so I thought it would be super romantic to take the road trip together, help him get settled in and all that stuff.’

‘Lemme guess,’ Daryl laughs, ‘you two ended up screaming at each other on some weird-ass parking lot half-way there.’

Paul laughs, ‘why am I even telling the story when you already know it?’

‘No way, you actually did? Oh man.’

‘Yeah. And we were using my truck, so I ended up just tossing all his shit out right there and then, turned the car around and went back. Not my finest moment, but…’

‘ _You left him there with all his shit_?’ Daryl laughs, rubbing at his eyes, ‘oh shit! You’re a fucking asshole.’

‘I suddenly realized I couldn’t be with someone who wants to listen to country music on a road trip.’

‘Oh fuck you!’

Paul flashes him a smile. His gloved hand drums on the steering wheel to match the rhythm of the current song. Most of his long hair is being hidden by one of his beanies, though a couple of strands have escaped to frame his face. ‘True story though.’

Daryl looks at him. ‘Why did you really leave his ass behind?’

‘Erm – He thought it was a good idea to start that phase of our relationship with a _clean slate_.’ Paul glances his way and rolls his eyes, ‘he admitted he’d cheated on me. And he had this whole story about how sorry he was, but also how good it had been of him to tell me now – that I would have never found out and – basically, I owed him one for admitting he’d fucked some other guy.’

‘Damn. That’s fucked up.’

Paul huffs out a breath of laughter, ‘yeah. It was. It took me about three hundred more miles to figure that out though.’

Daryl snaps his fingers and finger guns him down. ‘But you figured it out and left his ass there. You should have set his stuff on fire, man. I think he got away easy.’

‘Yeah, maybe,’ the scout grins. The car slows down as Paul leans forward over the steering wheel to peer up at the ramp of the highway. It’s blocked by cars. Most of the doors are still open, and there’s garbage littering the carcasses. Metal turned dark red from rust, tires all but rotted away. ‘We can try the next one.’

‘Just try the other way up, it’s right there. I can’t see if it’s blocked or not, but Rick ain’t gonna jump out of the bushes to give you a ticket. The gas station is only a mile ahead. If that side is blocked, we should just walk. We don’t even know whether that place is still good to go, we shouldn’t waste the gas.’

‘Yeah, okay,’ Paul steers the car past the ramp, heading the other way to check the next one. This one is free and Daryl can’t help but grin at the scout. ‘Good call,’ Paul grins as he sinks back into his seat again and lets the car pull up onto the highway. ‘So…’ he drums his fingers on the steering wheel again. ‘You – don’t have a – err.. you never had a boyfriend, right?’

‘No, and no girlfriend neither. Carl keeps rubbing it in my face, so don’t you start, too.’

‘No, I was just… wondering.’

Daryl tilts his head back and closes his eyes. ‘Right. Nah man. I was twelve when this all started, I was still… I don’t know – collecting bottle caps instead of runnin’ after girls. Did you know – like, you know Jayla, right? From the Kingdom? She’s dating a fucking Savior.’

‘Does that bother you?’

‘Yeah. _A lot_.’

‘Because he’s a Savior or-‘

‘Yeah, because he’s a Savior!’ Daryl opens his eyes again and scratches at his cheek, ‘and also because he’s not… you know… me.’

Paul snorts.

‘Shut up,’ Daryl laughs. He leans down to grab his crossbow as they pull up at the gas station. ‘Let’s go. I call dibs on every candy bar in that goddamn store.’

 

 

The diner looks like it had been ripped out of any all-American movie, with black and white tiles on the floor and a long bar on the right side and barstools bolted in place. There are booths on the left side, some made for families and others just big enough for two people. The red leather is cracked, every window has been smashed and nature has started to force its way back into the fantasy of the eighties.

Daryl slowly makes his way to the store room at the back. There are skeletons on the floor, some still mostly intact and others just scattered bones. Animals probably braved the glass on the floor to get to the flesh or bones, or maybe walkers had gotten in and out somehow. He tries not to look at the skulls. Tries not to see that some are significantly smaller than the rest.

The glass breaks further beneath his heavy boots. He slips behind the bar and slams the palm of his hand against the door. Once, twice, three times to be sure. Something is definitely moving inside. Weakly. Slowly. So softly that he’d almost missed it, but there’s a light scratching at the other side of the door. It can’t get out because there’s a steel bar stuck between the door handles, locking it from the outside.

Daryl puts his bow on the bar and takes his knife out. He glances at Paul, who is walking through the small store connected to the gas station. Most of the shelves had been bare when Daryl had made his way through it, so he’s not sure what the scout is doing now, but it doesn’t matter.

He takes a deep breath and then removes the steel bar. He opens the doors. His blood goes cold.

The entire floor of the storage room is covered by bodies. Bones. Skulls. Clothes, boots, shoes, belts, glasses, he recognizes some mobile phones. There are some guns, glistering between the corpses. Spray patterns of blood on the walls where people had blown their brains out. Someone had locked them in here. Before they’d turned, going by the signs that people had opted out.

A hand lands on his boot. He looks down.

There’s one walker left, so skinny that it’s barely more than a skeleton. The hair has fallen out, the clothes almost rotten away. It used to be a boy. Couldn’t have been older than fourteen, with sunken eyes that are now a dull red color. His jaw moves but he doesn’t make a sound.

Daryl kneels down and sinks his knife into his temple, stilling him at long last. He closes his eyes for a moment before standing up and shaking his backpack from his shoulders. He tries not to think about what he’s doing while he steps into the room, collecting the guns, the knives and the glasses. Bones break beneath his boots. He throws his backpack back out of the room and inspects the shelves. There’s nothing that hasn’t been opened. He quickly makes his way outside again, hating how he crushes a skull by accident. It almost makes him lose his balance.

‘Anything useful?’

Daryl quickly closes the door behind him. ‘Couple of handguns. Carl will be able to tell whether they’re still good.’

‘Oh, that’s good,’ Paul walks over to him and puts his hand on the handle. ‘No food? Bottl-‘

‘Don’t,’ Daryl grabs hold of his wrist. ‘I checked. Don’t open it. Please.’

Paul looks at him. The blue eyes dark and sad. ‘What did you see?’

‘Just don’t open it,’ Daryl mutters. ‘Ain’t nothing here no more. Did you find anything at the store?’

‘No. It was a bust.’

‘Fucking hell. Okay. Let’s head back.’ He’s glad to leave that room behind. The sun is shining outside. He can smell the woods beyond, can hear the birds fly overhead and is comforted by Paul’s footsteps behind him. He flips his baseball cap back around and looks up at the sky, so blue and so beautiful and endless.

‘Are you okay?’

Daryl sighs and turns around, facing Paul who looks concerned. ‘Someone had locked people inside that room. A bunch of them. Weren’t nothing but bones no more. Just one walker left. Could have been a kid. He probably survived this long by eating the rest. That’s fucked up.’

Paul closes his eyes for a moment. He walks over and doesn’t stop until he’s close to the youngest Dixon. Their chests almost touch. ‘I’m sorry you had to see that.’

‘I’ve seen far worse than that.’

‘I’m sorry about that, too.’

Daryl gives him a small smile. ‘Does the messiah complex come with the name?’

‘I’m not trying to save you,’ Paul answers. He brings one hand up to Daryl’s cheek, his thumb first brushes over his beauty mark before touching his bottom lip briefly. ‘You don’t need me to do that for you. I’m just sorry.’

Daryl’s gaze falls to the scout’s lips. He’s so close that he can count the man’s eyelashes, so close that he’d just have to lean forward to taste those lips. His hands are shaking, but he doesn’t move. ‘Me too,’ he whispers.

Paul’s nose touches his as the scout leans in. His breath ghosts over his lips.

And for one blissful moment, Daryl closes his eyes, expecting to- He’s pushed back. It happens so suddenly that he almost falls, eyes snapping open to meet Paul’s equally confused and frightened gaze. The scout takes a quick step backwards, shaking hands first covering his mouth and then his eyes.

‘I’m sorry,’ Paul says but they both know they’re not talking about the same thing as before anymore. ‘I – I shouldn’t have – I’m sorry.’

Daryl looks at him warily.

‘I’m sorry,’ Paul repeats.

‘Stop sayin’ that.’

‘I shouldn’t have done that.’

‘Why not?’ Daryl demands to know. ‘You want it, and so do I, so what’s the prob-‘

‘Stop,’ Paul says, voice unsteady, words trembling just as bad as his hands do. ‘Please – don’t. It was-’

‘I didn’t even do anything!’

‘ _I know_!’ Paul’s raised voice rings between them and dies slowly, painfully, until they’re just standing there with their shaking hands and hearts that beat too fast inside their chests. The scout looks lost. ‘I know,’ he repeats, softer now. ‘It would have been a mistake.’

Daryl scoffs. ‘Who knew, huh? Paul Rovia. A fucking coward.’ He watches how Paul closes his eyes and then stalks over to the car to throw the backpack in the back before falling into the passenger’s seat again. He’s too angry to drive. So he just sits there, glaring at the dashboard until Paul finally drags himself to the other side of the car.

For a moment, he’s afraid that Paul wants to talk about it, but the scout just takes a deep breath, starts the car and pulls back out onto the highway.

The drive seems endless.

They don’t talk.

Daryl pretends to go to sleep, curling up in his seat and closing his eyes. It angers him that he can feel Paul’s gaze on him every couple of minutes. The country CD ends and one of Beth’s favorites comes on, but neither of them changes it to something they both like.

It’s late in the afternoon when Hilltop appears on the horizon. The gates open and Paul parks near the make-shift garage. He sighs and leans back in his seat. When Daryl opens his door to get out, he reaches out to grab his arm. ‘Daryl,’ he says. ‘I – It’s…You deserve so much better.’

‘Oh, don’t you _fucking_ dare!’ Daryl snarls before he jumps out of the car, slamming the door behind him. He stalks to Barrington house.

Maggie is waiting for him on the porch. She’s peeling potatoes. Her face goes from cheerful and relieved to concerned in a flash.

‘Place was a bust,’ Daryl snaps even though she doesn’t deserve his anger. ‘Couple of guns, no food, no gas.’

‘Dare? What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing! Leave me alone!’

 

 

He hides in Beth’s room. Sits in the corner and presses the palms of his hands into his eyes until he sees stars.

He doesn’t cry.

 

 

The next morning he leaves before breakfast. He can’t bear the thought of having to sit at Maggie’s table, next to Paul, and pretend that everything is fine. So he heads out towards the swamp instead. It’s barely light out, the world still that strange grayish color and the wind cold on his cheeks, but none of that really registers. His thoughts are running wild. From painful visions of how that could have gone differently if Paul hadn’t changed his mind at the very last second, to memories of the man’s hand on his cheek, the warmth of his body, so close to his. And then just anger at how it did turn out.

A _mistake_.

He grabs a fallen branch and slams it against a tree before hurling it into some bushes. He kicks at a small rock, grabs at some leaves to tear them off.

He hates how Paul always tells him not to run.

He hadn’t. He hadn’t moved a _muscle_.

He hadn’t asked for this, hadn’t even thought that it was a possibility until the man was right there, leaning in for a kiss he would never give. He hates how that single moment made him feel more alive. ‘Fuck him,’ he whispers and he hates how everything seems to hurt. ‘Fuck him _,_ right Shane? We hate him. Fucking coward. What the fuck is he scared of, huh? _Don’t run, Daryl, don’t run_. Good lord, should have taken his own goddamn advice. How is this fucking fair?’ he asks the gray sky, but Shane doesn’t answer.

‘Nothing to say, big guy?’ Daryl sighs as he walks through the forest to get to the swamp. He might as well make himself useful while talking to Shane, after all. The flowers Alex needs are around there somewhere. ‘I could really use your help right now, man. It doesn’t make any sense. What’s he scared of? Ain’t no secret he’s into guys. Ain’t no secret I’m into him – like….’ He aims another mean kick at some flowers. ‘Whatever. Fuck him. Focus, as Aaron would say. _Focus_.’

It takes him longer to find the flowers than he’d thought. By the time he has dug the plant out, the sun has come up. He quickly puts it in his backpack and starts jogging back to the colony. Guilt is gnawing at him. He hasn’t seen Maggie since he’d stormed past her yesterday. He had heard her searching for him, calling his name until well after dark. At long last, Enid had managed to convince her that he was fine and that he wouldn’t have left the colony without telling her at least. He hates that he has made a liar out of her. At least he will be in time for the first meeting of the day, which takes place right after breakfast. He can just lounge in the windowsill like he usually does and won’t have to sit near Paul.

Kal gives him a pointed look when he opens the gate for him. ‘Maggie is still looking for you.’

‘You told her I’d left?’

‘No, you asked me not to. What’s going on, Daryl?’

‘Nothing,’ Daryl claps him on the back, ‘thanks man. I’ll go see her in a second. I just have to drop something off at Alex’s.’

‘I haven’t seen him this morning, so he’s probably still in his trailer.’ Kal pulls a face, ‘he’s probably already studying. The light was on earlier.’

‘Ey, whatever he learns might save your life, man. Let the guy study,’ Daryl grins. ‘Catch you later.’

Kal laughs. ‘True. See you later, Dixon.’

He runs past the medical trailer, to the one in the middle which he knows belongs to Alex. It had served as just another sickbay during the war, people sleeping on the floor while the nurse kept a close eye on them, changing bandages instead of sleeping or eating, stitching bullet wounds closed until his hands were shaking too badly from a lack of sleep.

Daryl knocks on the door.

‘Come in.’

Daryl pushes the door open.

‘What? No! Close the-‘

Only then does Daryl realize that the first voice hadn’t belonged to Alex. He freezes on the threshold.

Paul is sitting on the bed, chest bare and hair messy. The belts are gone, his fly unbuttoned, revealing his dark underwear. He doesn’t look up to see who’s at the door. Instead, he leans down to kiss a path down Alex’s bared chest, past his belly button, one hand coming up to reach for the man’s underwear.

‘Daryl!’ Alex shoves Paul roughly aside and jumps out of the bed, ‘what-‘

Daryl numbly takes his backpack off, putting it near the door. ‘Got you the stuff you asked for.’

Paul lies down on his back, his eyes on the ceiling. ‘Come back to bed, babe.’

‘Wha – ‘ Alex frowns and glances at the scout before turning back, ignoring him. ‘Are those the flower from the swamp? Wow, thank you so much,’ he gushes when the Dixon nods. ‘Really – thank you, Daryl.’

‘I got to go,’ Daryl mutters. ‘Maggie’s lookin’ for me.’

‘Oh, yeah, sure, bye D-‘

The door closing cuts him off. Daryl leans back against it, eyes shut to hide the sudden tears. The tips of his ears are burning with humiliation while he tries to steady his breathing.

‘ _Babe_?’ Alex’s voice comes, only slightly muffled through the thin wall. ‘Why would you suddenly call me – ‘ there’s a beat of silence, ‘you knew it was him,’ Alex sounds surprised and then suddenly outraged. ‘You wanted him to see that! You’re such a piece of shit, Jesus! Why the fuck would you do that?’

 

 

He runs through the colony.

Up the stairs and down the hall and through the door.

Maggie is sitting on the edge of the bed, brushing her wet hair. ‘Dare…’

He walks over and sinks to his knees in front of her. Puts his head in her lap and hides his face.

This way, nobody can see him cry. And only Maggie can hear it.

 

 

 


	14. You answer to...

 

* * *

 

 

 

There are dark clouds gathering above the forest beyond Hilltop’s gates. It will rain soon. The gardeners will be pleased while the builders won’t stop complaining until the rain finally lets up again. The wind is chilly as it strokes Daryl’s cheeks. It plays with the long bangs that have escaped the baseball cap. He is standing on the balcony of Maggie’s room, looking out over their community.

Breakfast has just finished and most people are on their way to start on their various jobs. There’s a woman feeding the pigs their scraps while Dante turns the horses out. Khamsin is the first to run into the pen, bucking wildly as if she hasn’t been able to stretch her legs for days now. When she finally finds her peace, she goes on the hunt for the best patch of grass, claiming it as her own but allowing others to playfully steal a few flowers from under her nose.

Enid is walking the wall. There’s an automatic rifle on her back, but she likes to practice throwing her knives on the walkers clawing at the wood below. After every successful throw, she climbs down to retrieve her weapon. Maybe it should worry them more that she’s able to scale the wall without too much trouble.

‘There’s a storm coming.’

Daryl nods. ‘Good for the crops. Washes away the dust, too.’

‘I’m not looking forward to the mud.’

A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth when he looks at Maggie, who is standing beside him. ‘Didn’t Gregory say it was hard to keep this place clean? He might have gotten one thing right in his entire life.’

‘We’ll see.’ She sits down on the balustrade. The dark hair is dry now and tucked behind her ears. She looks tired. One arm is curled around her belly in a protective gesture.

Hershel Jr Rhee.

It’s a good name, they’ve decided. At first he’d been scared that she wanted to name him after Glenn. The memory of the Korean is still very much alive in every single community. The name tainted by the beginning of the war, and always followed by _Lucille_. He’s glad his little brother won’t have to carry that burden. This way, they won’t have to correct people all the time. _Weren’t he the guy that got his head smashed in by - … We mean the goddamn baby._

He sits down beside her, turning his back on their community for the moment. His ears burn despite the cold. He looks at his boots and decides that he should start to look for new ones. It won’t be long before these will be too small for him.

‘We went on that run,’ he starts, because she’s been waiting for an explanation ever since she dried his tears. ‘Everything was cool. Hit the place, weren’t overrun or nothing. It had been looted though, probably at the start. Was a slim chance anyway, but it’s all about slim chances now.’

Maggie nods.

‘After, we were standing near the car and…’ He brings up his hand to gnaw on the nail of his thumb, a nervous gesture he can’t shake. ‘There’d been some fucked up shit at the diner, right? He said he were sorry I had to see it. He was standing real close, touched my – I just thought…’ He kicks his feet against the spindles. ‘I thought he were gonna kiss me.’

‘But he didn’t.’

‘No. He didn’t. ‘s why I were mad when we came back. He said it would have been a mistake. That he were sorry, and I deserve someone better.’ Daryl scoffs. ‘You know how fucked up it is to have to drive back together for three hours after that?’

A soft huff of laughter escapes Maggie. ‘Sorry. Yeah – I can imagine. That doesn’t explain why you’re upset now though.’

He glances up at her. ‘Walked in on him and Alex. I didn’t know they’re together.’

‘ _Alex_? Oh.’

‘Yeah.’

‘I’m sorry, Dare.’ She reaches out and laces their fingers together. Hers are softer than he thought they would be but his thumb rubs over scars all the same. Her skin is pale against his tanned fingers.

‘Are you?’

‘Of course.’

‘I ain’t no fool,’ he says softly, squeezing her hand. ‘You talked to him about me, when I did my work with Aaron.’

Maggie rubs her thumb over the cigarette burns on his hand. There’s a sad smile on her face. ‘I did,’ she says. ‘He was scaring the community with that protective streak of his. It’s pretty obvious that his feeling for you have changed over the last weeks. I just wanted to talk to him about that.’

‘Great. You probably scared him off.’

‘I didn’t, actually. That doesn’t mean I didn’t want to, though. We all have these dreams for the people we care about. My daddy had those dreams for me, too; go to a good school, find a fulfilling job, stand on my own two feet, and start a family of my own. And I want the same things for you. I want you to keep being curious about the world, and keep learning about it. I want you to be excited about becoming a messenger and stepping up in this community. And one day, if that’s what you want, I want you to start your own family.’

Daryl frowns. ‘Two people can be a family. Just ‘cause we’re both dudes, don’t mean-‘

Maggie shakes her head and tugs him close. ‘Of course they can. _You_ can. That’s not what I’m trying to say, Dare. It’s just – when, or if, you start that family? I want it to be with someone… I want what’s best for you.’

‘And that ain’t someone like Paul, right?’

‘I don’t know, Daryl. I just don’t know anymore. You’re _sixteen_ years old, and you haven’t been a kid for a very long time now, but you’re still just sixteen years old. And if you look into my heart? Yes, I do think someone your own age would be better for you.’

Daryl shrugs and glances at her, ‘but you didn’t tell Paul that.’

‘I didn’t need to,’ Maggie says. ‘Look… I don’t know what’s going on with Alex, I didn’t know anything about that. What I do know is this; whatever Paul is feeling for you right now? It’s scaring him, Dare. And, apparently, when he’s scared, he just tries to hurt the other one as much as he can to not have to deal with it. It should be a familiar coping mechanism to you.’

Daryl huffs out a breath of laughter. ‘’s fucked up to be on the other side.’

‘Tell me about it,’ Maggie grins. Then she sobers up, looping her arm around his shoulders to pull him close. ‘It’s strange for him, you have to understand that. When he met you? He thought you were… well – a _kid_. And now he’s getting to know you better and he’s… confused. He’s a man of morals, Dare.’

‘I know. It was just so dumb, you know? He turned me down the first time and that was fine. I understood that, but now? He came onto me, and for a second I thought that… maybe,’ he chews on his nail and glances up at her, ‘maybe it could work out. But then he’s suddenly with Alex, and I’m that dumb fucking kid who thought he had a shot. I just feel _stupid_.’

‘Well, you’re not. He’s the one who should feel stupid for hurting my baby boy,’ she kisses his temple and laughs as he squirms away from her. ‘Plenty of fish in the sea, Dare.’

‘Yeah.’ He hops of the balustrade and stretches. ‘I was kinda pissed he’d shoved me away, but that would have been fine. But he’s kind of a dick for trying to rub it in my face, right?’

Maggie tilts her head to the side. ‘Because you walked in on him and Alex? Maybe you should learn how to knock,’ she smiles.

Daryl looks at her for a moment. He _had_ knocked. And Paul had called him in. ‘Yeah,’ he mutters. ‘Probably a good idea.’

 

 

When it’s time for the daily meeting, he has other things to worry about than his own shattered pride. A couple of minutes ago he’d been sick with nerves at the thought of having to face Paul and Alex. But one of Maggie’s hands is pressed to the small of her back, the other rubs slow circles over her belly. A grimace of pain flashes over her features as she walks down the staircase.

‘Are you okay?’ he asks worriedly.

‘Yes. Give me your shoulder.’

‘You wouldn’t need my shoulder if you were fine,’ he says but still loops his arm around her waist. Her left hand falls onto his shoulder, holding herself up.

‘I just need to sit for a moment.’

‘Here,’ he steers her towards the couch in the hall and watches how she sits down with a pained expression. There’s sweat gathering at her temples. She looks too pale. ‘I’ll be back in a second.’

He runs towards the large meeting room. Most of the people have already taken their seats but Alex and Harlan are standing in the corner. Their heads are bent close together as they discuss one of the lists with medicine and supplies they need. The nurse looks up first. He straightens at the sight of the teenager.

‘Daryl-‘

‘ _Harlan_ ,’ Daryl cuts in, quickly making his way over. ‘It’s Maggie. Something ain’t right with her, she’s in the hall.’

Harlan pushes past him immediately, running towards the hall.

Alex lingers for a second. ‘Can I talk to you?’

‘No,’ Daryl snaps. He hurries after the other man and nervously stands on the side while the doctor asks about the pain the woman is feeling.

After a little while, the man leans back on his heels and looks up at the teenager. ‘Call Beth home,’ he says with a smile. ‘Maggie’s going into labor soon.’

Daryl’s gaze snaps to the woman, eyes wide and mouth falling open. ‘Oh my God,’ he breathes, ‘okay. Okay. Eh – are you okay? Is there something… I can get you?’

She laughs at the mix of excitement and fear that’s warring on his face. ‘Please radio the Kingdom to let Beth know. It’s just some back pain and cramps, Dare. I’m fine. And in good hands now.’

Harlan helps her up. ‘You are, but you’re going to have to actually listen to me; _go back to bed, Maggie_. Come on, I’ll walk you up, help you get settled. Alex can handle the meeting on his own.’

Maggie hesitates.

Daryl puts a hand on her elbow and gently pushes her towards the staircase. ‘I’ll handle the meeting ‘nd shit. Go back to bed.’

‘I’m being bullied.’

‘You sure are,’ Harlan laughs. ‘He’s got it.’

Before Maggie can protest any more, Daryl heads back into the meeting room. He normally sits in the windowsill that’s behind Maggie’s chair so he can look at the papers while she reads them and still not be in the limelight. Everyone looks at him as he steps into the room, but most relax when Alex says that Maggie’s fine. She just needs to rest.

Daryl looks at the head of the table. The chair on the right-hand side of it is empty.

‘Where’s Paul?’

Alex sits down next to Kal and ducks his head to avoid the teenager’s gaze. ‘He wasn’t feeling well this morning. Nothing to worry about though.’

Daryl grits his teeth. That _coward_. ‘Fine. Aaron, get a hold of the Kingdom for me. Beth needs to come home soon. Kal, can you start… this thing?’ he waves vaguely at the table before trying to figure out which lists he needs. ‘Shit, where’s that map with the- oh, thanks, man,’ he grins at Kal who hands him the right list and map.

He listens to Kal’s reports. The walkers around Hilltop are giving them very little trouble and they have enough people to man the walls despite the fact that many soldiers are now building the reconstruction. There are enough resources available to finish that project, which is good news.

‘There is something else,’ Kal admits as he shifts in his seat. ‘A small herd has been spotted heading down the highway. It has passed the marker for route 47.’

Daryl frowns. ‘Heading to?’

‘Alexandria.’

One of the guards scoffs. ‘Alexandria has high walls and enough fighters to deal with that mess. We can even radio them to give them a heads up. It’s their problem.’

Kal shakes his head, ‘Alexandria’s walls haven’t been completed yet. And if Beth is leaving right away? She’ll take their best fighters with her. Rosita, Tara, Merle, they will all follow her home. Carl is already here.’

‘They don’t just have the _golden ones_ ,’ the guard bounces back. ‘I know they were the force behind the revolution, but they’re not the only ones who can wield a knife. They have enough people to guard that community. What are you even proposing we do? Take that herd out? Risk our lives for theirs?’

‘That’s exactly what we’ll do,’ Daryl says as he leans back in his chair. ‘We’ll take that herd out before it reaches Alexandria. It doesn’t matter who is guarding those gates. If we keep thinking like that; it’s their problem? They won’t come to our aid when we need it, because then it’ll be _our_ fucking problem. That’s the old way.’ He turns to Kal. ‘How big is the herd?’

‘Fifty, give or take. It’s not big, but it’s big enough to cause a problem,’ the head of their guards answers.

‘One of them is enough to cause a problem. It only takes a second and then it’s all over. Gather ten of your best men and saddle the horses. Make sure they have spears with them.’

The guard scoffs. ‘ _Ten_ against a _herd_?’

‘Eleven and it’s a small herd,’ Daryl corrects without taking his eyes off Kal. ‘Ask Dante to saddle Khamsin. Find a steel chain lock. I know what to do.’

‘No,’ the guard stands up and looks at the teenager. ‘Who the hell put you in charge? Just because it’s _your_ family in that community, doesn’t mean _we_ have to risk everything for them. What if it was headed towards the sanctuary, hmm? You would have let them fight on their own. Or maybe you would have called for you horse, just to watch them all die!’

‘Stand down,’ Kal hisses with a glare at his guard.

Daryl nods and stands up. ‘This is done. Aaron, make sure Beth gets the message. After that, can you find Enid and stay with Maggie?’

Aaron dips his chin. ‘Of course.’

‘Thank you,’ he claps the man on his shoulder as he heads back upstairs, taking the steps two at the time. Maggie is resting on the bed, Harlan is sitting next to her on one of the wooden chairs. ‘There’s a small herd heading towards Alexandria,’ Daryl says as he opens a drawer to take his thigh holster out and clips it on. ‘We’re going to take it out.’

‘Daryl, maybe it would be best to stay here,’ Harlan says. ‘It could take days still, but if Maggie goes into labor-‘

‘Come here,’ Maggie holds out her hand for the young man.

Daryl walks over and laces their fingers together.

‘Promise me,’ Maggie urges.

‘I’ll come back,’ Daryl promises softly, tightening their hold on each other.  ‘Don’t worry about that.’

‘I’ll always worry about that.’

He smiles and leans forward to give her a hug. ‘Thank you.’

Ten minutes later, he falls into step next to Carl, who is waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. His brother holds out his hand.

Daryl smirks and passes his handgun to him. It’s a ritual they used to share with Rick and Shane whenever they would go outside of the gates. Daryl remembers the cop sinking to one knee and checking his magazine. It used to annoy him endlessly. A sense of outrage creeping into his heart because he thought that they doubted his ability to look after his own gear.

It doesn’t annoy him anymore. He cleans his gun regularly of course. Everyone knows that and nobody expects any less, but checking each other’s guns is the last thing they can do before sending each other off into danger. So he lets Carl check his gun, always wishing that Shane was still here to do it instead.

‘Good,’ Carl mutters as he passes it back. ‘Checked your bow?’

‘Of course.’

‘Good,’ his brother repeats.

Dante is standing next to Khamsin, holding onto her reins tightly while talking to her. His broad hand strokes over his neck as he tries to keep her calm. He smiles when the two brothers hug each other tightly before the Dixon comes over to hoist himself into the saddle.

‘Thanks, Dante,’ he nods, taking the reins. Around him, the soldiers get into their saddles as well. Some let their horses walk towards the gates, others make tight circles on the spot. Every single one of them carries a spear made by their blacksmith.

‘Wait! What’s going on? Where are you going?’

Daryl closes his eyes and tries to ignore Paul’s voice. He hates how it cuts through all the noise around him. Kal seems to explain the situation to the scout in a couple sentences.

‘Let me come with you!’

Daryl’s fingers go white on the reins. Khamsin steps back and forth nervously.

Kal’s whistle cuts through it all. The gates open and the first soldiers head to the highway.

‘Daryl!’ Paul comes running up to him, one hand grabbing hold of his leg. ‘What are you doing? What’s going on with Maggie? Does she know you’re doing this?’

Daryl looks down at the scout. ‘We went to war. I think we’ll be fine dealin’ with some dumb bastards who don’t even shoot back.’

‘ _Daryl_!’

He tugs sharply at the reins, causing Khamsin to bite angrily in his direction.

It spooks Paul, who backs away quickly.

‘Careful, Jesus,’ Daryl deadpans. ‘She hates ya.’

 

 

Kal watches how his soldiers climb onto the scaffolding. Some of their boots slip on the metal pipes but they manage to get up there without too many problems. After a soft sigh, he starts throwing them their spears. Not one of them drops it.

‘Are you sure about this?’

‘If you don’t think you can do it,’ Daryl starts, sounding exasperated, ‘we can try something-‘

‘No, I’m sure _I_ can do it.’ Kal gives him a significant look.

It makes the teenager laugh. ‘All I have to do is look tasty, man.’ He throws the guard a lewd wink, ‘and I’m _great_ at that.’

‘You little punk,’ Kal snorts, pushing him away. He looks up at the scaffolding again. It goes around the entire barn. The structure is sound, but the workers had needed to get close to the ceiling to install a new lighting grid. A storm has ripped a part of the ceiling though, which makes the building light enough for their purpose now.

The building is not far from Alexandria. Aaron had told them about it when they’d needed to scout for places that would be a perfect ambush. There’s a little hatch on the back of the building which allows people to slip in and out if they know how to scale the side of the barn.

Daryl has just shown Kal how to do it.

‘Okay,’ Kal mutters. ‘We’re ready.’

‘Good,’ Daryl climbs half-way up the scaffolding and holds the strap of his bow out to one of the guards. ‘Careful. Put it in the corner for me.’ He jumps back down, landing next to their head of security with a soft grunt.

‘Take it with you,’ he advises. ‘Those extra two pounds won’t make the difference.’

‘It’s fucking heavy,’ Daryl laughs. ‘I have my knife and my gun. I’ll be fine, dad.’

‘Fuck you,’ Kal says with a breath of laughter. ‘Fine. Go on. But hey; _careful_. Maggie will rip me apart if something happens to you.’

‘Yup,’ Daryl walks backwards out of the barn, ‘and Merle, and Carl, Enid too probably. Oh, Michonne! Rosita ‘nd Tara of course. Aaron! You wanna take it up with Rick?’

‘Watch where you’re going! Stop clowning about!’

‘Ezekiel and Jerry!’ Daryl shouts at him before he turns around and starts heading to the place where the herd will cross the road to get to Alexandria. There’s a rusted out car on the side of the road. The metal leaves stains on his jeans but he sits down anyway. He zips up his jacket against the cool breeze.

He has to wait for a long time, but then the herd appears between the trees. Snarling, stumbling over tree trunks, hands reaching blindly for anything that moves. Eyes red and clouded over, bones sticking out of rotting skin. Hair stringy and some items of clothing missing. Intestines hanging out of gashes, chests cracked open to see molding hearts.

‘ _Over here, you fucking assholes_!’

The walkers start to follow him automatically. They pick up the pace but can never match his.

He wonders whether this is how Michonne felt when she’d made the walkers her pets. Thick chains around their necks, just a means to an end with their teeth removed. She’d once told that story, about how she’d made them after the prison fell and when she followed Carl’s and Rick’s footsteps.

He keeps glancing over his shoulder, one hand on his gun in case something does go wrong. There are no nerves now, not even when he leads the herd off the main road onto a small lane and into the barn. His voice echoes off the walls.

‘Over here! Come on! Keep moving! Great stuff,’ Daryl quickly starts to climb. His heart skips a beat when hands grab his shoulders. For a second he sees flashes of rotting teeth sinking into skin, can imagine himself screaming in pain and horror, pushing himself away from the hands and falling backwards off the scaffolding to his death.

‘We got you,’ one of the guards says as he helps the panting young man over the ridge. ‘Good job. You’re fine.’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ Daryl gathers some saliva on his tongue and spits it out. There’s a sour taste in his mouth. ‘Get ready,’ he turns around and sits on the ridge, feet swinging below them as he watches how the barn fills up with walkers. Most gather just beneath him. They try to grab his boots.

Suddenly the doors of the barn close. There’s a strange sound of metal on metal, but it’s just Kal pulling the metal chain through the door handles. He locks the barn.

‘Okay, get started. If your spear gets stuck, just let go. It’s not worth going down with it, guys,’ one of the guards warns as he looks down at the walkers. ‘Let’s hope they find their peace.’

Daryl watches how the skulls split open. The barn starts to smell of blood and rotting corpses. Gurgling voices slowly go quiet and bodies fall onto their final resting places. He tries not to see their faces the moment the spears bury themselves between their eyes, but he can’t help it.

So many people haven’t been accounted for yet.

He’s not sure whose face he’s expecting to see. Fallen soldiers from their war. Maybe their blacksmith. Or one of Ezekiel’s most trusted advisors. The girl in the back could be from Oceanside going by her clothes. There’s a former Savior and a prisoner. He’s wearing the beige clothes with an orange letter on his chest.

‘Everything okay?’ Kal has climbed back into the barn. He grabs his own spear to join his guards but looks at the young man sitting on the edge with a vacant look in his eye. ‘Good job, Daryl.’

‘Yeah. Great…’

‘Grab your bow and go outside,’ Kal orders. ‘We’ll meet you out there.’ He presses the key of the lock into his hand.

‘No, I’m fine.’

‘It wasn’t a question. Go wait outside for us.’

Daryl looks at the walkers one more time and then gets up, grabs his bow and slips outside. He waits ten minutes and then opens the door for the guards. They clap him on the shoulder when they pass him.

‘I found something for you,’ Kal says with a small smile. He throws a pack of cigarettes at the younger man. ‘But don’t tell Maggie.’ He puts a warm hand on his shoulder, ‘or Merle, or Carl, or Ezekiel, or Ro-‘

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Daryl grins, shoving the man away. ‘Thanks man. Sorry about – kinda… zoned out… freaked out?’

‘You did what you had to do, we did the same. Everyone got out okay. It was a good plan, Daryl,’ he says. ‘And I guess you didn’t do it just to save Alexandria’s ass.’

‘Don’t go ‘round tellin’,’ Daryl mutters as he lights a cigarette up.

 

 

There’s a flower lying on his pillow when he gets back. Right next to it is a small, moldy, cardboard box. The lettering and pictures have gone. With a frown, Daryl walks over to the bed. He rips the box open.

Candy bars. Big ones.

The ones you buy at gas stations.

Next, he picks the flower up and examines it. He’s pretty sure it’s a hyacinth.

A purple one.

With a snarl, he turns on his heels and runs back out of the room, down the stairs and out of the house. People look up when he crosses the road and heads towards the trailers. This time, he doesn’t knock.

Paul is sitting on the bed with a book. Blue eyes wide as he looks up, one slim finger marking the line he was at. The moment he realizes who it is, he closes the book and puts it aside. He gets up. ‘Daryl…’

‘No,’ the young man says as he slams the door closed behind him. ‘You don’t get to do this! You _don’t_!’ He throws the flower on the floor between them. ‘ _Sorrow_? _I’m sorry, please forgive me_? You can’t say it to my goddamn face, so you just leave a flower on my fucking bed like the coward you are? Jesus fucking Christ, Paul! I bet you hoped I wouldn’t know what it meant, huh?’

Paul folds his arms in front of his chest and looks down at his boots. The long hair hides most of his expression.

‘You said no and I got it,’ Daryl hisses as he steps closer to him, one finger raised to point at his friend’s face. ‘I’m sorry if my fucking dumb-ass crush made you uncomfortable, but I didn’t do this. This ain’t on me, Paul. This is all on _you_. You’re confused about what you want, and that’s fucking fine, but don’t take it out on me, _ever_ again. Because I just thought you were awesome. And I just wanted to be your _friend_. That was enough for me.’

Paul closes his eyes and sets his jaw.

‘What were you thinking? If I just humiliate him, he might fuck off? Was that it?’

‘I wasn’t trying to humiliate you.’

‘Yeah, right,’ Daryl scoffs. ‘You just called me in while you were trying to suck your boyfriend.’

‘He’s not my boyfriend.’

‘I don’t give a fuck what he is or ain’t!’ Daryl snarls. ‘Everything would have been fine if you hadn’t fucked it all up!’

 _‘I know that_!’ Paul pinches the bridge of his nose.

Daryl shoves his shoulder. ‘ _Will you fucking look at me_?’

Paul’s hand drops and Daryl’s almost shocked to see tears shimmering in his eyes.

The scout takes a deep breath. ‘I am so sorry, Daryl.’

‘For what? Being a dick?’

‘Yeah. Among other things. You’re right. This _is_ on me. The first time we met, and you – I was flattered, but… I didn’t know you. You were just some… strange… I don’t even know,’ Paul sighs. He sits down on the bed again and wrings his hands. ‘You were a kid, just sixteen years old, but you were Rick’s right-hand man it seemed. Glenn and Maggie’s son, but still send into a dark walker-infested building. I didn’t understand at the time. I’d just never met anyone like you.’

Daryl sits down on the desk, feet on the chair. He listens quietly.

‘And now,’ Paul shakes his head as he looks down at his boots. ‘Everything’s different. We are different. You’re not a kid. And I think…’ he seems to swallow with some difficulty. ‘I think you’re… amazing. Just – amazing. You’re funny, kind, smart. Everything.’

Daryl lets his chin rest on his hand as he looks at the scout. ‘You forgot handsome.’

Paul smiles at his shoes. ‘That too.’

‘So what’s the problem?’

‘You’re sixteen.’

‘So you’re really gonna make me wait until I turn twenty-one, huh?’

Paul sighs, shoulders curling in. ‘I’m sorry, Daryl.’

‘Yeah, you’ve said that already,’ he falls to his feet again and walks back to the door.

The scout finally looks up. ‘Do you forgive me?’

‘Not yet,’ Daryl says with his hand on the handle. ‘I didn’t do anything wrong and you just tried to fuck me over to make yourself feel better. Ain’t right. Nah. You carry what you cause, and you’ll carry that a while longer,’ he pulls the door open and then hesitates. ‘But I’m keeping the fucking candy.’

He swears he can hear a soft huff of laughter escape Paul and smiles to himself as he wanders back to Barrington house.

 

 

It would have been easy to tell Maggie everything.

That he _had_ knocked and that Paul had tried to be as cruel as he could be.

It would have been easy to turn Maggie on him, exploiting Paul’s mistake and his own family ties with her to get his revenge.

Daryl is standing on the porch of Barrington house when the gates open. Several cars roll in, stopping beside the barn. His family gets out. He smiles when he watches how they walk towards him. Dark clouds above them, shadows on their faces, weapons gleaming on their belts.

There’s Beth at the front. Blonde hair in a high ponytail, wearing bright colors and always smiling but with a wicked knife on her hip. Her boots don’t slip on the soft earth, she dances forward, light as a feather and so deadly that it eases some of Daryl’s worries about her.

Merle behind her as a lethal shadow. Broad and rugged, with gleaming eyes that pin anyone down.

There’s Michonne, who is holding Rick’s hand. The katana a promise to anyone who approaches them with ill intentions.

Tara with Judith on her hip, walking next to Rosita. She might be pulling silly faces at the little girl, but her hand rest on her gun. Rosita has a sniper rifle on her back, dark gloves covering knuckles that have split on jaws so many times that they bear small scars.

Daryl glances to his left.

Paul is leaning against one of the pillars with a troubled expression.

It would have been so easy to make him an outcast in his own community again.

‘Dare.’ Rick’s eyes are dark as they flash at the people gathering around them. Suddenly Daryl understands the stories people whisper about his family. ‘How are you?’

Daryl looks at Paul.

The scout tilts his chin a little higher but there’s a trace of fear in the way he folds his arms in front of his chest.

Daryl turns back to Rick. ‘Everything is fine.’

 

 


	15. Homework

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For osmonj, who made the first day of spring extra sweet with that iced coffee.
> 
> Thank you so much.

 

* * *

 

 

 

‘Shit, it’s fuckin’ true,’ Merle says as he leans against the doorpost with his hands tucked into his armpits. ‘And you still fucking dare to call yourself a Dixon, boy? I thought it was a sick joke bein’ played on old Merle but here you are… doing your fucking homework.’

Daryl smiles as he looks up from his notebook and calculator. ‘I just keep on shamin’ that name, now don’t I?’

‘Your words,’ Merle says as he pushes himself away from the wall to fall onto one of the chairs at the small table. ‘Why the hell are you doing all this? There’s more useful things you could be doing around here, monster.’

‘Like what?’

Merle scoffs. ‘Hunting. Helping out with construction, or at the farm. Hell – anything is more useful than staring at some fucking numbers.’

Daryl frowns as he chews on the end of his pencil. ‘I’ve been out huntin’ all day, helped out in the kitchen during dinner. The hell do you want me to do more? I’m tired, man.’

‘What are you doing sums for then?’ His big brother bats at the notebook to get it out of the way. ‘Fuck that shit. That ain’t us.’

‘What’s your problem?’

‘You wanna hear my problem?’ Merle leans forward and points a finger at his little brother. ‘You’re trying to be somebody you ain’t and it makes you _weak_. It makes the whole goddamn community weak. You’re not helping anyone by knowing how to solve quadratic equations, or whatever it is you’re working on now. Now I respect the whole better-me mumbo-jumbo road trip you’re taking, but enough is enough. Getting stronger helps. You wanna learn Spanish while doing your chores, fucking fine. But this shit? It ain’t helping nobody.’

‘It’s helping _me_.’

Merle sniffs. ‘By showing everyone what a dumb piece of shit you are? They’re talking about it behind your back, brother. I heard it! Now I know you ain’t dumb; but we’re _street smart,_ brother. We know how to survive, how to fight. That’s who we are. We don’t need to suck up to these dumb democrats to learn anything, just so they can laugh about it behind your back.’ He raises his hands, ‘I’m just tellin’ you how it is.’

Daryl leans back in his chair. He narrows his eyes. ‘You’re such a piece of shit sometimes. One second you’re all helpful ‘nd shit, next you’re doing a 180 on me. You probably heard Gabriella talk about all the stuff I don’t know, huh? Just now, in the hall? Yeah – she’s making a list of shit I can learn ‘cause she used to be a fucking teacher, man. Gathering books and stuff for me to work through. And you know what? It helps, man, because you’re right; I’m a dumb piece of shit right now.

‘But Aaron is helping me do math so I can actually calculate how much wire we need to make a new pen for the sheep. How many poles we need if we need to plant them six feet apart. That shit is helping me because next time someone asks me to grab two dozen nails, I’ll actually fucking know how many nails he needs me to grab and I won’t be standing there, lookin’ like some dumb redneck hick who don’t know his ass from his elbow. Fuck!’ He scowls. ‘And you might think this is so fucking stupid because you already know, right? Well guess what; I didn’t drop out of high school, man. _I never got to fucking go so get off my ass about it!’_

Merle sucks on his teeth and looks away but he doesn’t say anything else.

Daryl grits his teeth and continues with his work. After five minutes, he’s relaxed enough to look up through his fringe. ‘Sorry I snapped. Just gets real frustrating. People are making jokes all the time – they ain’t being mean about it, just… makes me feel like shit all the same.’

‘Easy to forget you were only twelve when it went down,’ Merle says. ‘You were no genius back then neither, but back then you weren’t even trying. So why do it now?’

He shrugs.

‘You’re tryin’ to be something you ain’t, and it’s pathetic.’

‘Ain’t that the whole fucking point? You can’t just be the same person all your life! Gotta... I dunno… grow ‘nd shit.’

‘Grow ‘nd shit,’ Merle repeats with a sneer. ‘You don’t even know what the fuck you’re talking about. Just parrotin’. Who told you that bullshit, huh? Precious _Shane_?  Or our dearly departed Glenn.’

Daryl narrows his eyes to slits. ‘Watch your mouth.’

‘What? You think you’re tough now?’

‘I think you should watch your mouth, yeah,’ the youngest Dixon says as he rises slowly, hands on his sums. ‘’cause I ain’t twelve no more. I’m warning ya.’

Merle scoffs and puts his feet up on the table. ‘You’d turn on your blood? Sit your ass down, kid.’

‘You’re the one who’s turning on blood right now,’ Daryl says. ‘Yeah – I’m doing my goddamn homework because I don’t want to look like a dumbass. Maybe Aaron should give you some sums, you should fucking try it sometime! Good lord. Fuck off if you ain’t going to help.’ He sits down again and turns back to his work.

It surprises him that Merle doesn’t get up to leave. His brother takes out his hunting knife and starts to clean his nails with it, something Shane had forbidden him from doing because it’s dangerous. He bites his tongue.

Instead, he focusses on the sums. They’re easier now, though he still has problems with them when Aaron presents them in a story. There’s information there he doesn’t need, numbers hidden in words and sometimes he skips over important parts. He mostly uses his sketchbook now to rewrite the question, or sketch little triangles and squares to visualize it so he understands it better.

Merle watches him work. He can feel his brother’s gaze burn on him.

‘I got something on my face now?’

‘Nah, but ya should. That ain’t right. You need some glasses or something?’

‘Shut up.’

‘Everything you’ve been doin’ has been in miles and feet, but he’s switching systems on you there. Asshole’s askin’ how many _kilometers_ , and you’re gonna answer seven point two? Pfft.  But you go right ahead, give them something else to laugh at.’

Daryl glances back at the question and then leans back in his chair. ‘Fuck. Why would he do that? ‘s fucked up.’

Merle smirks at him. ‘He wants you to read and pay some fuckin’ attention.’ He rummages around in his pocket for his cigarettes and then waves one at the paper again. ‘Why’s there a blank space right there?’

‘’ cause I don’t know the goddamn answer.’

Merle hums and waves him over. ‘Lemme read the problem.’

‘Just so you can call me stupid again? Nah, man. He’ll explain it tomorrow.’

‘Shut the fuck up and let me read it!’

‘ _Fucking fine_!’ The two brothers glare each other while Daryl throws the notebook across the table.  He crosses his arms in front of his chest and glares at his knees. ‘You’re such a pain in my ass.’

‘Right back at ya, brother,’ Merle grouses but he still reads the question. ‘Oh.’

‘Lemme guess, it’s _so_ easy, I’m _so_ stupid, I’m bringing shame to the-‘

‘Gimme the calculator,’ Merle cuts in, holding his hand out impatiently. ‘I liked it better when you didn’t talk so much.’

‘I’ve always done that,’ Daryl says as he hands the device over. ‘You just weren’t around to hear it.’ For once, his brother doesn’t seem to have a response. Or maybe he just can’t be bothered because he merely flips him off. Daryl huffs out a breath of laughter. He watches how Merle starts to scribble down something on the table. ‘The hell you doing?’

‘You gotta copy it later,’ Merle mutters without looking up. ‘Different handwriting is a dead giveaway you got help, brother.’

Daryl watches as he solves the problem. ‘Did you like school?’

‘Liked lunch and detention, nothing more.’

‘That ain’t true.’

Merle looks up with a small smile on his face. ‘No, it ain’t. Solved it. That was tricky though, I’ll give you that one. Nah,’ he puts his feet up on the table again and leans back in his chair. ‘I… yeah – I guess I did like it. Weren’t no star student, mom used to strap me to a chair and watch me like a hawk until all my homework were done. She had to help with dumb shit.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Hmm-hmm. Vocabulary? Fuck that shit. Who the hell knows how to spell February correctly anyway? That word don’t even sound right. But I liked other stuff.’

Daryl leans forward eagerly, ‘like what?’

Merle shrugs. ‘Auto shop.’

‘Oh, yeah,’ he sinks back in his chair. ‘Guess that would have been cool.’

‘Hmm-hmm,’ Merle glances at him and then looks at his fingernails. ‘Art.’

‘You liked _art_? What?’ Daryl laughs, ‘like drawing? You can draw?’

‘No, not like _drawing_ ,’ Merle scoffs and then seems to bite his tongue, ‘though that’s pretty cool too, I just weren’t any good at it. Nah – like… sculpting?’ he seems embarrassed to admit it. ‘I liked that. For a while.’

Daryl scoots his chair closer to his brother, ‘what do you mean, for a while? Why’d you stop?’

‘A’right,’ Merle sighs and sits up, facing him properly. ‘We had this… thing we needed to do. An assignment right? I don’t remember what it was or whatever – just fucking sculpt something I guess. I’d been fucking around in class, didn’t do it in the actual lesson, so I had to finish it at home. Now I was sitting at the kitchen table with my hump of clay, and then I saw it; dad’s boots.’

Daryl frowns and nods at the same time.

‘They were just sittin’ by the door, all muddy and fucked up right? Holes in them, just – fucked up. So I sculpted one of them.’

Daryl grins, ‘you sculpted dad’s boot?’

‘Yeah man! And it looked real good! Like – _real_ good. The leather, the hole – everything. Fucking A, right? So I took it to class, and guess what?’

‘What?’

‘Teacher thought it weren’t my work. Wouldn’t believe I’d made that. Mom even called the teacher to tell them she’d seen me work on it for hours, slavin’ away to make it right, and that dumb college bitch just wouldn’t believe it. Failed me for cheating. Got suspended.’

Daryl gapes at him. ‘You’re kiddin’.’

‘Nah.’ Merle shrugs. ‘Never even looked at clay again and used the left over rock I had to throw in the windows of the art department. Fuck ‘em. Get this,’ he laughs. ‘They thought _dad_ had made it.’

‘ _Dad_? No way,’ Daryl laughs. ‘like dad ever helped with school work.’

For a moment Merle looks uncomfortable. ‘He did – with me.’ He glances up at his brother, ‘I bet mom forced him though.'

‘Right.’

‘You – errr….’ Merle shifts in the chair and plucks at his bottom lip, ‘you still think about him?’

‘’course, he’s my dad,’ Daryl mutters as he rubs at a stain on the table, head bowed now that the story about his brother is over and the attention is shifted back to him.

‘You wish he were here, huh?’

Daryl bites on his lip and curls in on himself. ‘Not really. I wish he were _alive_!’ he says quickly. ‘Like – I miss him, but…’ He shrugs and chews on his fingernails, eyes down.

‘Spit it out.’

‘He’d probably hate me, right? When we were at the prison, I was chillin’ with Carl. We were eatin’ some candy Shane had found us, and I guess we were – well, I was lounging in his lap for some reason. Will later said it better not be what it had looked like, ‘cause that’d be crossing a line. I didn’t really get it at the time.’ He bites on his nail. ‘I get it now though.’ He wipes his fingers on his jeans and then scratches at his cheek nervously as he looks at his brother. ‘Do you think he would have hated me now?’

‘Yeah. Probably.’

It shouldn’t hurt this much. Not when he’s spent hours late at night thinking the exact same thing, but to have it confirmed by his own brother, it still causes tears to well in his eyes.  ‘Right, he says.

‘He was an asshole, monster,’ Merle says, voice gentler than usual, ‘but I know you loved him. And he loved you. Keep that memory. Ain’t no point in speculatin’ what he would have thought of you now.’

 Daryl shrugs. ‘He would love you.’

Merle scoffs. ‘Bet he wouldn’t after I’d clock him for callin’ you a faggot, huh? Come on now, baby brother. Finish your chores and go to bed.’ He gets up and walks to the door. There, he hesitates. ‘Hell – he probably wouldn’t hate me for clockin’ him either, though I’d do it anyway. You’re wrong. He never gave a shit about me. We were too much alike for him to ever love me.’

Daryl fidgets with his pencil and doesn’t know what to say to that.

‘I’m sorry for ridin’ your ass sometimes,’ Merle says. ‘You’re right. We can’t stay the same people all our lives. Do your sums.’

The youngest Dixon nods. ‘Thanks. I love you, man.’

A smile softens Merle’s harsh features. ‘I love you, too. Don’t stay up too late.’

 

 

He dreams about the baby on the bridge.

He’s walking through the remains of the prison with the demon from his fever dreams on his shoulder. There’s old sweat dripping down the side of his neck. The demon licks at it with a split tongue, leaving only ashes behind that tickle him. They make their way from the cells to the courtyard, stepping over corpses of soldiers and people they used to know. Not anyone who’d actually been at the battle though. Just people. Old schoolteachers and his former friends with faces that haven’t aged since he’d last seen them on that final day before the schools were closed.

The demon’s tail wraps around his arm. It hurts but he doesn’t mind. The hurt is familiar and later he will climb into the RV and let Glenn put antibiotics on it with tears in eyes and whispers about how this isn’t how they learn.

The baby is crying. It causes the demon to giggle in his ear.

Together, they follow the cries towards the fence. His fingers come to rest in the chain link as he looks at the baby. It’s lying in a shopping basket, surrounded by baby formula which had been meant for another baby. Five bottles.

‘Cinco,’ Daryl says because the baby’s parents had been Spanish and it would make Rosita proud. There are fat tears on the baby’s cheeks.

The demon slumps onto Daryl’s shoulder, sighing and moaning softly as it rests its head on his.

‘I know, right,’ Daryl sighs as he leans his forehead against the fence.

It takes the baby a long time to die.

As soon as the cries stop and Daryl sees that the chest stops moving, terror strikes his heart. He starts to scream, yanking at the fence as if trying to tear it down. He begs and threatens and then just _screams_.

 

 

The trailer is dark and quiet. It’s been a long time since he’s slept in one. The last time had been during the war, when he hadn’t cared where Paul had led him to after fighting for hours in the dark against people and walkers. Covered in blood and mud and sweat, he’d just followed the scout like a lost, blind dog. Only in the morning, he’d be sorry about messing up Paul’s sheets with his filth. The scout hadn’t cared, had smiled when he’d come to bring him breakfast only to find a pile of teenagers where he’d left only one. Carl curled around his girlfriend but holding onto his brother’s shirt with a death grip. Enid sound asleep on the side. Daryl cleaning his bolts with a grim look in his eye that only faded when looking back at his family, sleeping soundly next to him.

It’s strange to think that they’ve now gotten so used to his nightmares that it no longer disturbs them. This time it’s not Carl and Enid, sound asleep, however. It’s Rick and Michonne with Judith between them. They’d been given the trailer by Maggie and Daryl has moved in with them for the time being. The girls are sleeping in Beth’s room, and Enid is rooming with Carl, so he and Merle are crashing the Grimes’ home.

Maggie needs her rest. She’s the only one who still wakes up when his nightmares hit, so he has given her her own room back. He regrets that now. There’s sweat dripping down his sideburns and his heart is beating loudly in his ears as he sits up to survey the room. Merle is on watch duty. Slowly, he gets to his feet to move closer to the bed.

Judith is sound asleep. Her face is pressed into the crook of Michonne’s neck, little hand resting on the woman’s arm and occasionally twitching in her sleep. The blonde curls spill out onto the pillow. Michonne’s hand covers most of her back in a protective gesture.

Rick is holding onto one of her tiny feet in his sleep.

She’s fine.

Daryl’s heartbeat slows down, but the nightmare still haunts him. It has chilled him to the bone. After a couple of seconds of hesitation, he grabs his knife from the small cabinet near his own bed and then slips out of the trailer.

Hilltop is quiet this time of night. He takes a deep breath while he thinks of where to go. Maybe to Merle who is standing guard on the West side, or go see Khamsin to share an apple. He could slip into Beth’s room and sleep there, Tara and Rosita wouldn’t mind. He smirks when thinking about Carl’s room, which is out of the question. Who knows in what state of dress those two are. He clips his hunting knife to his belt and heads to Barrington house.

On the porch, two dark figures rise suddenly. Only when they step closer to the small fire pit can Daryl make out who they are. Kal and Paul. Both look concerned.

‘Daryl,’ Paul says softly as he takes quick steps towards the younger man. ‘What’s wrong? Why are you up?’

‘Ain’t nothing wrong,’ Daryl answers. He glances up at the night sky and figures that Kal and Paul will relieve the guards soon. ‘Tell Merle I’m fine.’ He grabs the door handle.

Paul puts his hand on the door, keeping it closed. ‘Daryl,’ he urges. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing! Leave me alone!’

‘If there’s something I need to know, then-‘

‘I had a nightmare,’ Daryl hisses at him. His ears burn with humiliation. ‘There was a baby on the other side of the fence and, in my dream, I watched it die. Complained that it took so long. So if you’ll fucking excuse me, I just want to see Maggie for two seconds and then go back to bed. I won’t wake her up.’

Paul’s face softens as his hand falls away from the door. ‘I’m sorry. Do you want to talk?’

‘Not with you,’ Daryl says before slipping into the house and going up the stairs.

Maggie’s room is lighter. There’s a single candle burning on their table in case something happens during the night, or when she goes into labor and Harlan needs to see what he’s doing. Strange shadows dance over the walls. They remind him of the demon that had licked the sweat off his skin.

He shivers and walks over to the bed.

 The woman is sleeping on her side but her eyes snap open the moment his shadow hits her face.

‘It’s me,’ he says quickly, ‘it’s just me. I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to wake you.’

‘Dare?’

‘Yeah,’ he sits down on the edge of her bed. ‘I’m sorry.’

Maggie glances around the room and rubs at her left eye, ‘what? What’s wrong?’

He feels stupid. ‘Nothing. I just wanted to see you.’

She leans onto her elbow to sit up slightly. ‘Did you have a nightmare?’

‘Yeah.’ He pulls at his fingers. ‘It was about a baby. I checked on Judith and – I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to wake you up. Go back to bed.’

‘Here,’ Maggie pats the bed and lies down again, closing her eyes.

With a soft smile playing around his lips, he puts the knife on the bedside table, kicks his boots off and throws his jeans onto the floor near his side of the closet. The blankets and sheets are cool against his bare legs.

Maggie sighs. ‘I told you not to leave.’

‘ _I told you so_ ,’ Daryl mimics in a tone of voice Beth likes to use with him when she’s been right all along.

Maggie laughs and the sound makes the boy smile.

The coldness of the nightmare fades.

 

 

‘Right, right, left, kick.’

Daryl nods and jabs his right fist two times, then his left before kicking against the shield Rosita is holding.

The woman rolls her eyes. ‘Kick it, Dare. I won’t break. Again; kick!’

He kicks it harder.

‘Three laps, right now,’ Rosita snaps as she throws the shield down onto the ground. ‘That’s not kicking.’

With a growl of frustration he starts on his three laps around the pen. It’s not too bad because the weather is mild, the sky still overcast after their mild rainstorm the other day, and the dust has settled. It’s actually kind of fun because every time he needs to run his punishments, Khamsin gallops alongside him, following him around the pen and it urges him on, faster and faster just to make her work, too.

The rest of his family is sitting around the training site. Carl is working with Merle while Enid teaches Michonne how to throw her knife correctly. Rick is sitting under a tree with Judith, stacking colorful blocks until they fall over. When Daryl returns after his third lap, he sees that Paul has joined them.

‘-you would teach him the proper techniques, he wouldn’t have to run laps every five seconds,’ the scout says with a deep frown marring his face.

Rosita scoffs and folds her arms in front of her chest, chin high and defiant. ‘You have a problem with my lessons? I don’t hear him complaining.’

‘Because he _never_ complains!’

‘Have you met him? He complains all the time!’ Rosita laughs and then motions at Rick, who is following the conversation with narrowed eyes. ‘Will you tell him?’

‘Tell him what?’ Daryl pants as he comes to a halt beside her.

‘That you’re being a douchebag who’s refusing to do as he’s told,’ she says to him. ‘He knows the proper technique,’ she tells Paul as she picks the shield back up again. ‘He’s just pretending to be a gentleman.’

‘It’s just training,’ Daryl mutters. ‘You know I can do it, what’s the point in giving you bruises just to show off?’ He stretches. ‘Can we stop now? I’m tired.’

‘Two laps,’ Rick says.

‘What? That is _so_ unfair!’

‘Two laps, right now!’

Daryl shakes his head and laughs before taking off again. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees how Merle sends Carl off to run his own laps around Barrington house. He flips his youngest brother off just as he rounds his own corner, laughing all the way while Khamsin gallops next to him, neighing when he whoops. Three minutes later, he stops next to Rick, who is now glaring at Paul. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Nothing, go grab something to drink,’ Rick says. ‘I’m talking to Jesus.’

‘There’s _peace_ now,’ Paul hisses at the former cop, ignoring the young man by his side. ‘There’s no need to push them this hard.’

‘We’re not pushing them.’

‘He said he was tired and you punished him for it!’

Rick folds his arms in front of his chest, eyes hard and cold. ‘I don’t need to justify my actions to you.’

Daryl rolls his eyes. ‘Stop sticking your nose in, Paul,’ he grouses as he walks over to Rosita, who raises one eyebrow and her shield. ‘I don’t need you fucking help.’ He jumps and kicks just like how Shane had taught him.

Rosita stumbles back three steps. ‘Whoa! Great job, Dare. One more, try to get a little higher.’

‘Yup.’ Daryl looks back at Rick, ‘kinda miss my run-and-jumps.’

‘I bet you do,’ Rick smirks. ‘Takes less effort. Stop being lazy and jump.’

‘Do you need to be such an asshole about his training?’ Paul snaps suddenly.

‘Will you stop fucking sticking your nose in?’ Daryl snarls, advancing on the man. ‘Rick was talking to _me_! We don’t need to hear your goddamn opinion about us! Fuck off!’

‘ _Enough_.’ Rick steps between them, facing Paul. ‘I told him to go to bed early yesterday and instead he monkeyed around with Carl all night. That’s why he’s tired. That’s why he’s running two laps every time he complains about being tired today. That’s our system. It’s fine if he wants to stay up, but he’ll need to do his chores and tasks regardless. That includes his training. He knows that.’

Paul glares at the ground.

‘When he was twelve, he was too small to reach a walker’s brain. He taught himself to run and jump onto things to get enough height. First it was just fences and cars, later he could do it with lampposts and walls. That’s his run-and-jump. It’s a useful skill, but I want him to be able to kick the way Morgan taught him; on his own strength. There won’t always be a wall or car nearby.’

‘You don’t need to explain shit to him,’ Daryl grouses as he walks back to Rosita, resuming his session with her. After half an hour, a shout from Barrington house attracts his attention.

It’s Beth, standing on the porch, screaming his name.

He runs. Faster than Michonne and Rosita, faster than Carl even. It feels more like floating when he sees that Beth is grinning excitedly.

‘Her water broke.’

 

 

An hour later, he holds Maggie’s hand. It’s clammy.

Maggie is crying.

‘I promise it’s going to be okay,’ Daryl says. ‘It ain’t like it was then. Harlan is here, and Alex, and Beth knows what to do. We’re all right here. Everything’s going to be okay.’

Maggie squeezes his hand. ‘I’m scared.’

He kisses the back of her hand and then leans forward, stroking the damp hair out of her face. ‘Look at me. I’m right here. You’ve been so strong, you can do this, Maggie. Just a little while longer.’

‘What if he doesn’t make it, what if he-‘

‘He is going to be fine,’ Daryl says. ‘He’ll be beautiful even though all babies look like wrinkled potatoes, right? Not yours. Yours is going to be a little heartbreaker right from the start.’

Maggie laughs through her tears.

‘Right?’ Daryl laughs, pressing their foreheads together for a moment. ‘And he’s going to have ten toes, ten little fingers, and two ears that are too big for his head, just like you.’

‘I hate you.’ Maggie groans when another contraction hits.

‘I know.’ He is sitting on the edge of her bed, back towards Harlan and Beth. Alex is downstairs where the water is being boiled twice. Every time he tries to slip back into the room, he’s nearly jumped by the rest of their family for news.

‘Okay,’ Beth gives her big sister a reassuring smile. ‘Next time, push. You’re ready.’

‘No, no, no,’ Maggie moans.

‘Just squeeze my hand.’

‘Don’t leave.’

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Daryl assures her. ‘Glued my butt to this spot. Now listen to Beth, next time; push.’

 

 

Hours later, Daryl steps out into the hallway.

‘She’s okay.’ He laughs, eyes shimmering with happy tears. ‘And he’s _perfect_.’

 

 

 


	16. Hershel JR. Rhee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I haven't replied to the comments yet - it's a national holiday here and I totally forgot I had to do it yesterday! I feel terrible about it, because your comments are the absolute best, always.
> 
> I'm uploading from my phone now, I hope the lay-out looks okay, I can't really tell. Otherwise I'll fix it tomorrow.
> 
> Thank you!

 

* * *

 

 

‘Can you believe it?’ Daryl breathes as he stares at the small bundle in his arms. ‘That we were ever that tiny?’ He looks up at Beth, who is standing in front of him. ‘Am I holding him right?’

‘You are.’

‘He’s smaller than Judith was.’

‘Not by much,’ Beth smiles.

Maggie chuckles. ‘You thought Judith was huge, remember? You called her a big-ass baby.’

Daryl groans. ‘I hadn’t ever seen a baby before, I thought they were tiny.’ He turns back to his little brother. ‘You’re no big-ass baby, Hershel. You’re the best baby! Oh!’ He laughs when the boy opens and closes his mouth, tiny tongue poking out. ‘That’s the spirit.’ He sticks his own tongue out, too.

‘Okay, enough Dixon corruption,’ Beth leans down to scoop the baby out of his arms, taking him back to his mother. She carefully sits down next to her sister, head on her shoulder as they both look at their newest family member.

Maggie looks tired but happy as she gazes at her son. Her fingers stroke over the wisps of dark hair on his head. She says he has brown eyes. With a soft smile, she turns to her sister and presses a kiss to her forehead. ‘Thank you.’

Alex and Harlan have taken their leave for now. According to their measurements and examinations, Hershel Junior Rhee is a perfectly healthy boy.

Beth snuggles up to her sister. ‘You did all the hard work.’

‘What about me? My hand was crushed!’ Daryl grins as he crawls towards the two sisters, lounging on his part of the bed. ‘It still hurts.’

‘You know what part of me still hurts?’ Maggie asks and laughs when the teenager pales and hides his face under his pillow. ‘That’s what I thought. Now go get me a glass of water, you brat.’

The pitcher is empty. He picks it up and heads towards the door.

‘Dare,’ Maggie’s voice is strained. ‘Don’t take too long.’

‘I’ll hurry,’ he promises, ‘but I may need to boil the water first. We went through the reserves pretty fast last night. And you know that everyone will be jumping me for information. He better start growin’ fast, ‘cause if I tell Michonne _he’s sleeping_ one more time, she might strangle me.’

Beth giggles. ‘That’s exactly why we’re sending _you_ out there. We’re always hopeful.’

‘ _Mean_! Maggie!’

‘Don’t shout,’ Maggie scolds as her arms tighten around her son. ‘And if you run into Rick, you can send him up. The rest can meet him this afternoon.’ She strokes Hershel’s cheek. ‘We’re tired.’

It doesn’t surprise Daryl that Rick is the first person he runs into when he steps out into the hallway. The cop is sitting next to the door. Knees bend, fingers fidgeting as he stares at a spot on the wall. He looks sad for just a moment. The dark gaze snaps up at the teenager.

‘Maggie wants you to meet someone.’ Daryl holds out his hand so he can help him up. He watches how Rick pushes the door open. He knows the exact moment his eyes land on Maggie and her son. The blue eyes soften before they fill with tears. One shaking hand comes up to his heart, covering it for a second.

Beth slips off the bed to make room for Rick. The man slowly walks towards Maggie, sitting down on the very edge of the matrass. One big hand is placed on the little boy’s head.

‘Your son,’ Rick says, voice hoarse.

Maggie laughs, eyes filled with tears as well. ‘Hershel Jr Rhee.’

Daryl smiles as he closes the door and heads downstairs. The morning shift has just started so it’s quiet in Barrington house. The kitchen staff greets him warmly, quickly setting to work to boil enough water to fill the pitcher again. He sits down at one of the long tables to wait.

It’s been one of the longest nights of his life. Holding Maggie’s hand and trying to banish the memory of Lori from her mind, whispering that everything was going to be fine and just praying that he wasn’t a liar. He knows he’s had the easiest job in the whole room but still feels drained.

He’s thankful to have been there, though. There’s something magical about hearing a child’s first cries.

Now, he slumps in his seat and lets his head rest on the table top.

‘Bein’ a big brother is hard work, huh?’

Daryl smiles but doesn’t open his eyes. ‘Hmm.’

‘This is just the beginning, monster. It’ll just get harder once they start crawling ‘round, gettin’ into all sorts of trouble.’ Merle’s hand lands between his shoulder blades. He rubs slow circles into his skin. ‘Everything okay?’

‘Yeah. Just tired. His name is Hershel Jr.’

‘After her dad, right?’

‘Yeah. He were with us ‘till the prison fell. He was a good man.’ He brings his arms up to use them as a pillow for his head. One eye cracks open. ‘Were you there when I were born?’

Merle sits down next to him. ‘I was, yeah. Not in the room though, I had to wait out on the hallway, but I remember that day. I was at school when uncle Jess came to get me. Drove down to the hospital in that piece of shit truck of his, and guess what?’

‘What?’ Daryl asks, already huffing out a breath of laughter.

‘It broke down.’

‘No!’

‘On the high way, man,’ Merle laughs with a shake of his head. ‘Oil fucking everywhere, smoke, water leaking – how he even got to the school in one piece the Lord only knows. Let me tell you: I was _pissed_. Scrawny fifteen year old, on the side of the highway, just shouting at Jess, man. I was so mad. I was gonna miss my own brother bein’ born. Like, _goddamn_.’

Daryl chuckles.

‘It got worse,’ Merle says. He’s laughing again. ‘The pigs pulled up. _What do we think we’re doing, Dixon?_ Of course I’m over there, losing my shit, Jess is at the car just pissing his pants laughing. Those goddamn pigs didn’t even know where to fucking start.’

‘How did you get to the hospital?’

Merle rolls his eyes. ‘The pigs drove us there. What a mess. Jess still pissin’ his pants, right? Tellin’ the cops all these things, the fucking rat. Could have landed all our asses in jail ten times over by the time we got to the hospital if the cop actually listened to a word he said. They didn’t. They dropped us off and good riddance. The rest was already there.’

‘Aunt Franny and them?’

‘Everyone,’ Merle smiles as he looks at his little brother. ‘We were all dyin’ to meet you, man. It all happened pretty fast. Got to drink my first beer in your honor that night.’

Daryl lifts a skeptical eyebrow.

‘Well, we told mom it was my first drink, anyway.’

‘Right,’ Daryl snorts.

‘There you are!’ Michonne comes hurrying towards them, a broad smile on her face. ‘How are they?’

‘Guess what,’ Daryl grins. ‘He’s _sleeping_. Rick met him just now. The rest of you can come ‘round in the afternoon.’

‘Judith’s been dying to meet him. She drew him a picture. Oh – she used your sketchbook, I hope you don’t mind. Just one page.’

‘Kicker can use all the paper she wants,’ he says with a wave of his hand. ‘I don’t care. Where’s C- oh shit.’ He sits up when he hears people gather in the other room. The door opens and closes a couple of times. Their daily meeting is about to start.

One of the builders appears in the doorway. ‘Daryl! You coming or what?’

‘Yeah – yeah,’ he pushes himself up, I’ll be there in a-‘

‘No. He ain’t,’ Merle’s hand lands on his shoulder to keep him in his seat. ‘Where’s our lord and savior at? He can hold your hands fine.’

The man scoffs, ‘don’t need a damn teenager to hold our hands either. He’s good with the trails, knows what’s going on outside, that’s all. Jesus is already at the table.’

‘Then I’ll break some bread with y’all, how about that, huh? Stop houndin’ him,’ his hold tightens on his brother’s shoulder. ‘He’s off duty for the week.’

‘I can do it,’ Daryl says. ‘Ain’t no problem.’

‘Nah, what you can do is get some sleep and then go take care of your horse until Maggie needs you. You’ve done a lot the last couple of weeks, so now you’re gonna be the teenager you are okay? Chores, homework and being a big brother. Nothing more, unless you feel like it. You wanna go huntin’, fine. Wanna be at the meetings? Sure. But you’re back at bein’ a right-hand man, a’right? We got this. Leave it to Jesus and me.’

Daryl looks up at his brother. He thinks about objecting but he remembers the unease that would claw at his spine when he’d sat alone at the head of that table. That had never been the plan. He might be excellent at surviving, making sure that an entire community survives is something he has never had to worry about. He lost the title of king a long time ago. He hasn’t missed it.

So he nods. ‘Thanks, brother.’ He watches how the two men take their leave. Tomorrow, he will sit in the windowsill again, peering over Merle’s shoulder and listening, occasionally providing the answers they need. He likes that spot better than the hot seat Merle and Paul will share in Maggie’s absence anyway.

Michonne gives him a soft smile. ‘I think that’s good advice to take.’

‘Yeah. It’s a bit hard sometimes, like-‘ he rubs at his upper arm, ‘going back and forth? One week I’m doing chores and my homework, other week I’m huntin’ down people to kill. It’s hard not to feel useless when I’m just mucking out Khamsin’s stall.’

‘There’s peace now.’

‘I know! And it ain’t like I _want_ to go out ‘nd hunt people instead of deer, it’s just… It’s hard to flip the switch back.’

Michonne nods but he doubts she really understands what he means. Nobody else seems to be struggling the way he is. ‘This is a good start.’

He grits his teeth. A _start_? He’s been trying since the end of the war. ‘Yeah,’ he grouses, eyes down to hide the disappointment on his face.

‘Hey,’ she reaches out and puts a warm hand on his cheek, forcing his gaze back up. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Dare.’

He sniffs and shrugs, jerking his chin so her hand falls away. ‘’s nothing! I just thought I were doin’ a’right.’

‘You are. Nobody said you aren’t doing good,’ Michonne says with a frown. ‘We’re very proud of you, you know that.’

‘Yeah, _thanks_ ,’ he mutters as he slips away from her to grab the pitcher from the counter. He thanks the staff for boiling it and then glances at the woman again. ‘You said just going back to my chores would be a good start, but I’ve been working my fucking ass off to be… normal! I’ve been training with Rosita, learning all this shit with Aaron –‘

‘We’re talking about two different things,’ Michonne says. ‘You think I mean that it’s a good start to be normal? You already are normal, Dare. There’s nothing wrong with you. Not a single thing. Though you can be a _bit_ stubborn.’

He scoffs but flashes her a small smile to show he knows she’s joking.

‘I mean that it’s a good start to take some weight off your shoulders. I understand that it’s hard for you to keep flipping the switch back and forth and you can’t become weak, but you can let the reins go a little. Do what _you_ want to do.’

‘I don’t want to be useless.’

‘You can never be useless.’

He nods. ‘Okay. Thanks, I guess.’

She smiles. ‘Thank you for talking about it and not running away angrily.’

‘Was thinking about it.’

‘I know you were,’ she laughs. ‘Now take the water to Maggie.’

He ducks his head. ‘Yes ma’am.’ He hesitates for a moment and then darts forward, hugging her tightly before running back upstairs.

 

 

The afternoon is spent at the barn. Every horse needs to be cleaned and groomed, their manes and tails clipped and hooves checked. It won’t be long before one of the Kingdom’s farriers will need to come down to tend to their feet, and Daryl makes a mental note to get Merle to radio Ezekiel about that.

He works diligently, side by side with one of the farmhands who could be spared. After an hour, his hands are cold from the water and his clothes soaked, but there’s a big grin on his face. Most of the horses don’t mind their baths. When he wipes one of the last ones down with a rag and leads them back into their box, he sees that the farmhand is admiring Khamsin.

‘You wanna give her a try?’

The young man looks at him warily. ‘I heard she was a devil to handle.’

Daryl clacks his tongue and holds his hand out, grinning when Khamsin nuzzles him fondly. ‘Don’t look like no devil to me. C’mon you take her out of her box and I’ll get some more water for her.’ He throws the lead rope towards the man and hurries out of the barn. He quickly rearranges the buckets, setting them a little further from the fence and closer to the doors than they were before.

He fills one of them up with rain water and checks on the man.

‘Like a little lamb,’ the arm hand grins as he leads the horse towards the pen. ‘There you go, sweetheart. Now to the right. No we’re not going to the pen, we’re going to stay right here, no – wait! What the fuck!’

The devil in Khamsin reappears when she realizes that she’s going to be tied to a metal ring just outside of the barn and won’t get to graze outside. That just won’t do. She neighs and throws her head, almost comes off the floor with her front feet. It spooks the farmhand enough that he lets go of the rope.

She turns around quickly and jumps towards the pen, back feet kicking out. They hit the buckets.

The farmhand’s khakis are soaked. He looks at the horse with big, frightened eyes and then at the teenager. ‘Shit, Daryl, I’m so sorry – I – ‘ he stops when he sees that the boy is holding in his laughter. ‘You knew she would do that.’

Daryl bursts out in laughter. ‘Your face, man! _Like a little lamb – oh fuck_!’

The farmhand shakes his head. ‘You little asshole. I gotta chase her now?’

‘Nah, nah,’ Daryl laughs. ‘I’ll go get her and clean up here, you’re done for today. That was funny as hell though, thanks.’

‘Are you sure? Thanks, man. Give her a wash and put the buckets away, Dante will come by to feed them later.’

‘Sure man! Let’s go catch us a devil,’ the teenager grins before he sprints away, whistling sharply to get Khamsin’s attention. It doesn’t lure her over. His cheerful mood actually makes her more playful too; she makes sure to keep him at least at an arm’s length.

People gather around the fence to see him chasing his own horse around the pen. The young mare and the teenager, lap after lap after lap.

‘Are you fucking kiddin’ me, gorgeous?’ Daryl grunts as he misses grabbing her halter by an inch and she dances away from him again. ‘You wanted this, huh? People laughing at my pathetic ass?’ He glances at the little group and sees that Judith is sitting on top of the fence, leaning back against Aaron. There are a couple of farmhands and builders, but there’s also Paul who is standing next to the big oak tree, not quite part of the group but still watching with a smile on his face.

‘Ok, that’s it. You wanna stay dirty, you go ahead,’ he grunts and walks back to the barn.

Khamsin neighs softly and dances after him, playfully darting within his reach.

He doesn’t react.

She stomps her foot and bumps her nose against his shoulder.

‘Hey Leave me alone, girl!’

Khamsin whinnies and nudges him again, scared that he’ll go back into the barn and not play around some more.

He whirls around and grabs her halter. ‘Ha! Who’s the fool now, huh? Thought you were so clever. Wanna burn through some energy? Come on,’ he leads her over to the fence and clips her reins on, throwing them over her head before climbing onto the fence. Khamsin sidesteps towards him.

‘Good girl,’ he praises as he leans onto her withers and quickly slides onto her back. It feels strange to ride without a saddle, but Beth had insisted he learn to do that as well a long time ago. They won’t always have time to saddle their horses.

They walk around the pen slowly to get used to each other. Daryl grins and strokes her neck before guiding her towards the fence again. ‘Hey kicker,’ he says, ‘wanna ride?’

‘Yea!’

‘Ok, I’m going to swing you up here, watch your feet, okay? Don’t kick her.’

‘No!’ Judith holds out her hands eagerly.

Daryl scoots back to give her some room and grins when Aaron helps the little girl to balance on the fence. With a smooth move, he grabs her arm and hauls her onto the horse. She giggles, pressing back into his chest when the horse looks back to see what they’re doing.

‘Easy, sit upright, good posture right? Back straight,’ he wraps an arm around her waist. ‘Want to hold the reins?’

‘Yea!’ She grabs them and accidentally tugs.

‘ _Easy_ , kicker! It annoys her when you yank her head like that.’

‘Sorry horsey,’ Judith say, letting go of the reins and leaning forward to hug Khamsin’s neck.

Daryl laughs and holds onto her shirt so she won’t slide off. He grabs the reins, ‘just put your hands over mine, we can ride together. Feel how I wiggle my pinky to make her stop? No need to yank.’

It’s not easy to make the fastest horse in the Kingdom walk slowly, but he manages all the same. For as much as Khamsin likes to goof around, she knows it’s business as soon as he’s on her back. Judith babbles on about something, telling the big horse all about some flowers she had helped plant this morning. She dissolves into a fit of giggles every time Khamsin’s ear twitches.

After a couple of laps, he urges Khamsin back towards the fence and helps Judith to swing one leg over. ‘Good, now slide down. Aaron will catch you. Good job! See you later, Kicker!’ A few fast laps and then Khamsin is ready for her bath, not giving him any trouble while he brushes her down and washes her tail.

When he leads her back, Dante is already distributing their food. He greets the teenager with a smile. ‘I could hear Judith squeal with joy all the way from Barrington house.’

‘She thinks Khamsin’s ears are hilarious for some reason, yeah.’

‘Congratulations on becoming a big brother again, by the way. Great news.’

‘Have you met him yet?’

Dante shakes his head. ‘There’s a waiting list as long as my forearm. I’m afraid I’ll have to wait a little while.’

‘Yeah, it’s a pretty popular guy,’ Daryl laughs. He gets Khamsin settled inside her box and then cleans all the buckets and stores them in the small shack next to the barn. Then he helps Dante with feeding the rest of the horses. After a couple of minutes, he glances up at the man. ‘Why’re you workin’ in the stables? You were a guard before, and you were on my squad during the war.’

The man had been a good shot. Most of their ambushes are just a haze of adrenaline and fear now, but he remembers that he’d been there, by his side. Face ashen but determined, just a shadow in the dark before they would strike.

Dante straightens. ‘Yeah – I was there. I’ve asked Kal to let me work here for a while.’

Daryl frowns. ‘Why?’

‘I have a lot of nightmares,’ Dante tells him. He leans against the wall with his hands in his pockets. He looks relaxed, he’s even smiling a little but maybe that’s just due to Daryl’s surprised expression. ‘A couple of days after the war, I was patrolling the wall. There was a walker. I just couldn’t kill it. Flashbacks, panic attack, the whole PTSD experience, right? I don’t want to do it anymore, so that’s why I’m working here.’

‘You have panic attacks?’

‘Yup. They’re scary, right?’

‘Yeah.’

Dante smiles.

Daryl freezes. ‘I mean – _I_ don’t – that’s just what I’ve heard! I don’t know!’

‘Sure,’ the man claps him on the shoulder. ‘Thanks for your help, man. Give my best to Maggie.’

‘Yeah, okay,’ Daryl mutters and he quickly makes his way outside. As he starts to wander back to Barrington house, he spots Alex sitting on the steps of his trailer, enjoying the sunshine. Head tilted back and eyes closed, a faint smile gracing has features.

‘Yo.’

The man’s eyes snap open. He looks surprised to see the teenager and scoots over to make room for him on the step. ‘Daryl. Hi.’

‘Hi,’ he sits down. ‘I just wanted to say; thanks for your help ‘nd everything.’

‘Of course. You did a great job helping her, too.’

‘Pfft. Didn’t do nothing but let her squeeze my hand to dust.’

‘Sometimes that’s all anyone needs; a hand to hold.’

‘Yeah, whatever,’ he adjust his baseball cap. ‘I’m sorry about the other day, kinda snapped at you when you wanted to talk to me. So…’

Alex does his best to hide his fond smile but it doesn’t work entirely. ‘Right, thanks. I just… I’m really sorry about the whole situation with Jesus. I don’t know what he was thinking. I know you two are… he shouldn’t have done that. It was mean.’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl plucks at his boots so he won’t have to look at the man. ‘We talked it out. He knows he was an asshole. Was real sorry.’

‘He cares a lot about you.’ Alex says gently. ‘Me and him? We’re – we’re not…’ he tries to find a right way to say something like that to a teenager. ‘He’s not my boyfriend. Sometimes we blow off some steam but… it’s nothing serious.’

‘Yeah, I don’t give a fuck.’

‘Ok. Well, I just wanted you to know that.’

‘Fine. I know it now.’

‘ _Ok_.’ Alex draws the word out. He drums his fingers on his knee. ‘So…’

‘Yeah, fuck this, see you later.’ He runs off but Alex’s laughter follows him, and he’s grinning when he yanks the door open.

 

 

Maggie stands in front of the windows and looks down at the row of bushes and trees growing near the wall. It’s where Glenn’s grave is. Her son is snuggled up against her chest and sleeping. He’s probably exhausted after meeting their entire family.

‘Did you tell him?’ she asks her son.

‘Nah,’ Daryl murmurs. ‘That’s your news. And he probably already knows. Always stickin’ his nose in, right?’

Maggie laughs. ‘It’s his _son_.’

‘That just makes it worse, trust me. He couldn’t keep a damn secret, but he sure knew how to sniff them out.’ He stretches and then plucks at the sheets. ‘I told Shane though. Bet he would have been pretty excited too.’

Maggie turns around. There’s a dismayed frown on her face. ‘You went outside of the walls today?’

‘Nah,’ Daryl closes his eyes and yawns. ‘Just told him when I were washin’ Khamsin.’

It’s quiet for a long time. So long, that Daryl cracks open one eye to see what Maggie is up to. She’s still standing by the window, but now she’s looking at him. Her hair is a mess and she’s wearing sweatpants that might fit Jerry better, and a black shirt that’s too big for her. She’s smiling.

‘What?’ Daryl asks but he can’t help but smile back at her.

‘Nothing. I’m just really glad we found each other.’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl huffs out a breath of laughter. ‘That shit’s crazy. Do you ever think about what your life would be like if none of this ever happened? Like, all of it. Walkers – everything. What if everything was just… normal. Like,’ he sits up suddenly, ‘what if I came to work on the farm? Huh? That’d be _crazy_!’

Maggie laughs at his sudden excitement. ‘What would you be doing on the farm?’

‘Just helpin’ out? I dunno. Stuff.’ He falls back onto the bed. ‘Probably not though.’

‘Probably not because you’d be some famous tattoo artist in New York, right? You’d have a shop with your name on it. Maybe Beth would run away from home just to get one of your pieces.’

Daryl’s eyes shine as he smiles bashfully. ‘Yeah. That’d be kinda cool, maybe.’

‘Yeah, it would have been cool,’ Maggie says softly. She glances down, ‘can you take your brother for a moment? I need to get back into bed.’

‘Yeah – yeah – yeah,’ Daryl says as he quickly gets up and eagerly takes the little boy into his arms. ‘Oh,’ he gasps, ‘look at you wearing a hat! It’s pink though,’ he wrinkles his nose but then grins, ‘whatever floats your boat, man. Kinda badass with those stars on it, huh? Yeah, you’re a cool cat. Tiny though,’ he kisses his cheek. Then he quickly walks over to the bed and helps Maggie get in, holding the blankets up as she slides in with a grimace of pain. ‘You okay?’

‘Can you get me the painkillers?’

‘Yeah.’ He plucks them from the table and hands them over. It’s hard to pour a glass of water from the pitcher with only one hand and some of it sloshes over the brim. ‘Shit. Sorry! I mean – _shoot_. I’ll clean it up later.’

Maggie smiles, ‘it’s just water, Dare. Thank you.’ She takes the medicine and then pulls the blankets up to her chin, watching him with heavy-lidded eyes. For a couple of minutes, she just listens to him babble to his baby brother and then she falls asleep.

Daryl pads over to the crib and puts Hershel down, just like how Rick had taught him to do with Judith when she was this small. Then he grabs his boots and crossbow, halting at the door to look back at Maggie.

He closes the door softly.

The rest of his family is lounging in the downstairs living room. Their couches form a square at the back of the room. There are more couches at the front and there are others sitting there, sharing stories or playing card games. There’s a pretty clear divide between them and the Alexandrians. He spots Paul in one of the big armchairs, reading a book.

He puts his crossbow down and hops over the back of one of the couches to land next to Tara. She doesn’t have to look up to know it’s him. She just reaches out and knocks his baseball cap off.

‘Stop teasing me.’

She pulls at his earlobe. ‘I’m not teasing you.’

‘Please stop. I don’t like it.’

That makes her look at him. ‘I’m sorry, Dare. I won’t do it again.’

‘Thanks,’ he grabs his cap from the floor and leans heavily against her side. Across from them, Beth is beating Merle at chess while Judith sleeps in Carl’s lap. Enid is telling Rick a story about a holiday she once went on with her parents, and Michonne is laughing at something with Rosita.

‘Here it is! The Kingdom’s finest,’ Aaron falls into the seat next to Carl. He’s holding a bottle. Yellow liquid shifts inside it.

‘What is it?’ Carl asks with a scrunched up nose. ‘Looks like Shiva’s pee.’

‘Ok, you’re not getting any.’ Aaron opens the bottle and starts pouring it into the glasses on the table. ‘It’s apple cider.’

‘It’s got alcohol in it?’ that seems to interest the teenager more. Then he looks at his father, ‘can I have some?’

‘Just a little,’ Rick allows. ‘We have something important to celebrate tonight after all.’

The teenagers get half a glass. Daryl grabs one and sniffs it. It smells like apple juice.

‘Yo,’ Merle shouts suddenly. ‘Rovia! Get your butt over here!’

Paul looks up from his book with a small frown but he puts it away when he sees that everyone on the couches is looking at him. He walks over cautiously. ‘What’s going on here?’ he asks, avoiding Daryl’s eye the whole time.

‘Sit down,’ Merle orders. ‘Monster, scoot your fat ass over.’

Daryl scowls at his brother but moves closer to Tara so there’s a free spot.

‘Yeah, sit down,’ Tara laughs as she reaches out and pushes Paul to the spot. ‘We’re celebrating!’

There’s a faint blush on Paul’s cheeks as he sits. His thigh presses against Daryl’s. ‘I thought it was an exclusive party. Invite only.’

‘Well, here’s your invitation,’ Aaron laughs while passing a glass to him.

‘It’s family only,’ Rosita grins, already holding hers up for the toast.

‘Yes!’ Beth stands up and lifts her cup. ‘Here’s to babies bein’ born!’

Everyone whoops and clashes their glasses together. ‘To Hershel!’

 

 

None of them know that miles and miles away, a guard from the Kingdom kneels down next to a walker. There’s a deep gash across its head. It was slain by a single blow from a sharp, curved sword.


	17. Got it

 

* * *

 

 

 

‘You got it?’

‘I got it,’ Carl confirms as he veers off the path to stab a walker in the head. It’s tangled up in some bushes and crawling around on the ground. There’s fur between its rotting teeth, dried blood on its cheeks and chin. The friction between the dirt and their skin causes the flesh to split. They can see its ribcage.

‘Bastard got into one of my traps,’ Daryl says. ‘That was my goddamn rabbit.’

 ‘You give him his goddamn rabbit back, you son of a bitch!’ Carl says and he sounds so much like Merle that it makes his brother laugh. The knife plunges into long-softened tissue and cracks open the skill until the tip hits the brain. The teenager yanks his knife back out and the body stills. His boots kicks against the corpses’ shoulder so it rolls over. He brings his knife up again, above the stomach this time.

‘Stop.’ Daryl looks at him with a wary expression. ‘It’s dead. Leave it be.’

Carl shrugs, ‘was just joking. I wouldn’t have done it.’

‘Ain’t no jokin’ matter neither. C’mon, let’s get home. We’ll still have to face Rick’s evil eye.’

His brother joins him at his side again. ‘Yeah, I’m going to say this was all your idea, by the way.’

‘Well, it was, but there’s no need to throw me under the bus! What the hell, man!’ Daryl laughs. ‘And it ain’t like we ran away from home. We could say we were pulling some fish and fell into the lake by accident.’

‘He’s never going to believe that.’

‘He wants to find us guilty? He’d have to prove it beyond reasonable doubt, right? We totally could have slipped and fell.’

‘If we say we slipped and fell into a goddamn lake, he’s never letting us outside of the gates again,’ Carl laughs, ‘for our own good.’

‘Nah, he knows we’d be lying, he just can’t prove it. Fuck it. We had a good time, and they can’t keep us locked in anyway.’ Daryl throws his arm around his brother’s shoulders. Their hair is still dripping wet, skin warmed by the sun high above them. Neither of them are wearing their hats, Carl had left his with Judith for safe-keeping while Daryl’s cap is clipped to his belt.

After Daryl’s morning chores, they’d gone swimming in the lake. Both Rick and Maggie declared that place forbidden after hearing Tara’s stories about walkers surviving beneath the water. Unlike any of the streams around Hilltop, the lake is too deep to see the bottom. That is part of the fun, of course. They like to jump off the wooden docks to touch the sandy bottom, and try to bring up some wet dirt in their fists to show the other they’d made it all the way down.

‘Hey,’ Carl puts his arm around his brother’s waist to tug him closer. ‘Did anyone tell you yet? They’ve completed the wall at Alexandria.’

‘Michonne told me, yeah,’ Daryl turns his head and tries to lick his brother’s ear, causing the teenager to push him away. They both stumble, laughing, and Daryl smirks. ‘So? Ain’t nothing there but rubble. Hey, wanna head over to the blacksmith this afternoon? He made an _axe_ , man. It’s fucking cool, you gotta see it.’

Carl stops walking. ‘We’re moving back home.’

‘What?’

‘The day after tomorrow. We’re moving back into Alexandria. Dad says they’re wasting too much gas as is by driving back every night, and our house has been cleaned for the most part. A couple of other houses aren’t too bad either.’

‘Who the hell is _we_?’

Carl shrugs. ‘Me, dad and Michonne. Rosita ‘nd Tara. Everyone from Alexandria, basically, except Merle, Aaron and Maggie. And Beth of course.’

Daryl scowls, ‘you’re just going to _leave_?’

‘That’s been the plan from the start. What else do you think we’re rebuilding for? You could come back with us! Your room is still there, but we could rig up Merle’s house for you, if you want. Maybe we could move in there together, have a whole house to ourselves!’

Daryl scoffs and kicks at the ground. ‘Go play happy family with Enid, you fucking loser. I’m staying here. Ain’t gonna be living in no rigged up piece of shit community! And I ain’t leavin’ Maggie neither.’

Carl rolls his eyes and grabs a branch off the forest floor. He starts to strip the bark just to have something to do with his hands. ‘Guess that answers my question; nobody told you that part yet. No need to be such an ass about it, you can still come visit. And I’ll come visit all the time, too! It’s gonna be weird though, right? Not being in the same place.’

The Dixon boy works his jaw. ‘Yeah,’ he mutters. ‘Don’t like it.’

‘Yeah, I can tell, asshole,’ Carl laughs. ‘You’re always so _mean_ to me,’ he moans dramatically before flinging the branch into the bushes again. ‘Come here,’ he jumps his brother, trying to work him to the ground but Daryl’s stronger. They just end up like before again, Daryl’s arm around his shoulders, his around his brother’s waist. ‘You _are_ going to come visit though, right?’

‘’course.’

‘Good.’ Carl actually looks relieved.

The sound of hooves on the soft earth drives them apart. With a smooth move, Daryl loads his crossbow and brings it up, while Carl takes aim with his silenced gun. They lower the weapons seconds later, when they see that it’s just Beth.

She’s riding on Khamsin, posture perfect as they gallop through the woods. Her blonde hair is flowing in the wind and she’s laughing. Another horse rounds the corner, their rider hunched over their neck to flatten themselves in a sad effort to pick up some speed.

Daryl smirks because nobody can keep up with his horse.

‘Yo, Beth!’ Carl calls out.

The girl lets Khamsin swerve to the right before rounding on them, easily slowing down from galloping to a slow step. She pushes her hair behind one ear and frowns at them. ‘You’re not supposed to be out here. Did you swim in the lake?’ she eyes Daryl. ‘Maggie told you not to!’

‘We fell in,’ Daryl says promptly. ‘Was an accident. Hey girly, you takin’ Beth places today, huh?’ he strokes his horse’s neck. ‘Yeah? Okay, but be careful where you step, hmm? One dumb rabbit hole and you’ll hurt your leg.’ He kisses her warm coat.

‘Wait until she sees you,’ Beth smirks. ‘Maggie’s going to be so mad.’

‘Wait until she hears you’re out here, too!’ Daryl glances at the other rider who comes closer hesitantly. ‘With a _guy_. What’re you doing, huh?’

Beth blushes. ‘Mind your own business.’

Carl snorts. ‘ _Mind your own business_ ,’ he parrots in a high voice.

‘Dare, come on,’ the girl says pleadingly.

‘’s what you get for threatenin’ to rat on us,’ Daryl laughs. ‘But we won’t say nothing if you don’t tell on us. Ain’t that right, sweetheart?’ he asks Khamsin. ‘Yeah.’

The rider sits up on his horse, face flushed and ears burning and doesn’t seem too sure what to say. He’s probably a year older than Beth. ‘Erm… Hi, Daryl. Hey, Carl.’

Carl looks at his brother.

‘Hey Sam,’ Daryl says, squinting against the sun to see him. ‘I was just tellin’ Carl about the axe. Can we come see it this afternoon? Is it done yet?’

‘Hey Sam,’ Carl chimes in, beaming at him. ‘Yeah, can we come see? Is it like the one Jerry has? That thing is huge.’

‘No, it’s smaller than that. And it’s not done yet, sorry. But you can still come see it.’

‘We’ll check it out once it’s done,’ Daryl says. ‘Come on,’ he aims a kick at his brother. ‘I need to get back. Bye gorgeous,’ he taps Khamsin’s nose and then starts to head back to Hilltop. Carl follows him. They both look up when Beth rides past them, heading back into the woods.

‘Not a _word_ to Maggie,’ she hisses at Daryl and he sticks his tongue out at her.

Together with his brother, he watches how the girl guides his horse back onto one of the trails. Carl frowns and turns to him when the two are out of sight. ‘You think Maggie would really give her trouble?’

‘She was about to tan my hide yesterday because I dared to poke my cheek with the end of my pencil while I was thinking.’ He gives his brother a pointed look, ‘I could have been _blinded_ , man. I could have fucking _killed_ myself while trying to do my writing homework. The other day I took too long in the bathroom. She thought I’d drowned. Merle kicked down the door.’

Carl bites on his lower lip to stop laughing. ‘What _were_ you doin’?’ A giggle escapes him.

‘I was jacking off, what the hell do you think I were doing, man? Fucking hell! Everyone was downstairs, I’d locked the door! Everything was going great!’

‘ _Stop_ talking! Stop! _Please_ stop!’

‘You asked!’

‘ _Everything was going great_ ,’ Carl laughs. ‘You’re such an _idiot_!’

‘Nothing kills a boner faster than Merle bursting in, lemme tell ya, brother. Come on, for real; I gotta get home or the momma bear will kill me for getting too much vitamin D or something, I don’t even know, man. Best not risk it.’

 

 

Half an hour later, he runs up the staircase of Barrington house barefooted. His hair is once again dripping wet, but now his skin is pink from scrubbing it clean in the downstairs bathroom. Harlan has warned him about germs and viruses, so he does his best to keep as clean as he can. Every time he passes Michonne, she ropes him in to smell his hair and tease him about the strawberry scent. It never fails to make him laugh.

When he reaches the top of the staircase, he can already hear Hershel’s soft cries and whimpers. The baby is only two weeks old but already exercising his lungs and vocal cords. The door to their room is open. It only takes him a second to realize why the little boy is crying.

Paul is standing in the middle of the room, looking hopelessly lost. He’s bobbing the little boy and making shushing noises but his eyes keep flicking to the closed bathroom door. The long hair is put in a messy bun and his cheeks are getting redder every second Hershel won’t stop crying.

‘Maggie?’ he hisses, ‘ _Maggie_!’

Hershel’s crying intensifies.

Daryl leans against the doorframe with a smirk on his lips. ‘Good to know you’re not brilliant at everything.’

Paul’s gaze snaps to him. ‘Daryl! Oh, thank God. Maggie’s in the bathroom,’ he whispers, ‘and he won’t _stop_!’

‘’course he won’t. Why you’re holdin’ him like he’s a walker?’

The scout looks horrified. ‘I’m holding him wrong?’

‘Well, clearly he ain’t loving this, so… yeah.’ Daryl sniggers as he walks over. ‘Relax, man, he ain’t gonna bite. No, don’t pass him to me,’ he laughs when Paul tries. ‘Gotta learn, man. Like this. Closer to your chest, arms here – yeah. See? That’s better.’

‘Thank you,’ Paul says softly when Hershel quiets down. His gaze flicks over the young man. ‘Now please put on a shirt.’

Daryl snorts. Color explodes onto his face, cheeks, and the tips of his ears burn brightly. He narrows his eyes in what he hopes is a flirty look. ‘Is it distracting you, Mr. Rovia?’

‘Yes.’

A sudden rush of nerves causes his hands to shake as he takes a step back. ‘Oh – good lord, a‘right, fuck me, I’ll get a shirt.’ He feels stupid when he walks over to the closet. When push comes to shove, he doesn’t know what to do at all except finger gun someone down. ‘Don’t want you to fucking drop him or something.’

‘Good to know I can still make you blush,’ Paul smirks.

Daryl laughs as he crawls onto his bed and falls onto his pillows. He runs his hands over his face. ‘You do a lot more than that, asshole.’

‘There’s a child literally staring at me. Keep it PG.’

‘You started it!’

‘I didn’t walk in here, dripping wet and almost naked!’

‘I wasn’t _almost naked_!’

The door of the bathroom opens and Maggie walks back into the room. Her hair is wet too, which makes Daryl think she took an improvised shower. The bags under her eyes are still there but Michonne had told him that that’s normal for a mom. She’s moving around with more ease, stiches healing nicely even though her body remains tender. He tries to nod his understanding whenever she mentions any other pains but storms out with red ears when she mentions her breasts are hurting.

‘Stop flirting with my son, Jesus,’ she says. Her smile is soft and kind, one hand coming to rest on his shoulder as she peeks at her baby boy.

Paul immediately stiffens. ‘We were just joking.’

‘Merle won’t get the joke,’ Maggie tells him with a pointed look. She squeezes his shoulder. ‘Can you give Hershel to Dare? I want to go over the runs with you. Do you think it’s a good idea to take Senna with you? She doesn’t have much experience.’

Paul walks over to the bed and looks down at the young man lounging there. He lifts an eyebrow.

‘What? Give him here,’ Daryl holds his arms out.

‘Get up and take him from me, I don’t know how to do it.’

‘Sure you do, come on, he won’t break and he won’t bite. You need to learn how to put him back in his crib too, my chest ain’t nothing different. Keep supportin’ his head.’ He talks the scout through it until his little brother is snuggling up to his chest. He puts a comforting hand on the tiny back, thumb stroking the soft, black hair on the top of his head.

‘Well done, uncle Jesus,’ Maggie smiles as she steers him towards the table. ‘Now tell me about Senna. Who is she?’

Daryl looks down at his brother. The only resemblance he has to Glenn is the dark hair and brown eyes. With his chubby cheeks and mostly expression-less face, he doesn’t look like anyone. Maybe when he’s older, they will be able to pick certain traits and call them Glenn’s or Maggie’s, but right now Hershel is his own person.

‘Are you going back to sleep?’ Daryl murmurs when the dark eyes keep opening and closing like the little boy is fighting the process. ‘That’s okay, just go to sleep, my man. I got you.’ He’s not sure how long he’s just lying there, staring at his little brother. Occasionally he kisses the black hair and pokes the tiny fingers with his so they curl around it. Long enough for Hershel to sleep and then wake up again a while later.

He starts to cry.

‘He’s hungry,’ Daryl says as he sits up and cuddles the boy close. ‘Easy, Kiss. Your momma is right there, huh? Oh! Hi,’ he grins when big, brown eyes stare up at him. ‘Hi kiss. Good afternoon! Did you have a good nap?’

When he looks up, he sees that both Maggie and Paul are looking at him. Maggie supports her chin with her hand, elbow resting on the table. A few strands of dark hair reach her eyes. She’s smiling. ‘Kiss?’

Daryl feels a blush creeping up his neck. He glances at Paul and sets his jaw. ‘Yeah? So?’

Maggie lifts her eyebrow.

‘Short for Hershey Kiss, right? Sweetest thing there is. Stop laughing at me!’

‘Nobody is laughing at you,’ Maggie says but her voice shakes and her eyes shine with mirth. ‘I was scared you’d nicknamed him after the band.’

‘What band?’

Paul laughs and leans back in his chair. Heavy boots come to rest on the edge of the desk. ‘Unlikely,’ he says, ‘he likes country music, of all things. And Rockabilly! Are you sure _you_ raised him?’

‘It was a group effort,’ Maggie grins. ‘That’s all Rick’s fault.’

‘And you like that Jazz bullshit, but you don’t hear me bitchin’ about it!’

‘You should have heard him in the car,’ Paul tells Maggie with a significant look while ignoring the young man. ‘It was like he was being tortured. _I’m going to tell Maggie, boohoo. Wait until Merle hears you’re being so mean to me, boohoo. Why is that guy having sex with his saxophone, boohoo._ ’

Daryl sniffs and walks over to the table so he can give Hershel to his mother. ‘Hershel was right earlier; you’re a piece of shit, Paul.’

The scout snorts. ‘Really? He said that?’

‘He was crying his eyes out while you were holding him. That’s baby-talk for; you’re a piece of shit.’

‘Maybe you’re just both crybabies.’

‘Excuse you?’ Maggie asks as she takes her son into her arms to feed him. ‘You be nice to my son or I will kick you out, Jesus. No, not him,’ she says when Paul winks at Daryl. ‘He can take care of himself.’

Daryl smiles as he sits down on the edge of the bed again. He listens to the two friends bicker about whether Paul was actually being mean or not. Somehow it morphs into another argument about music, with the scout groaning and slumping in his seat when he hears that Maggie doesn’t mind some country from time to time.

It feels strange now to just hang out with Paul. The sense that every conversation is a minefield disappears slowly. There’s still some tension between them, both searching the boundaries of their friendship while not crossing into something neither of them are ready for.

He haltingly tells the story about the last party they’d thrown, back in Alexandria when everything had seemed quiet. Paul seems fascinated by the fact that he knows how to dance and unsurprised that Maggie gushes about the tattoo he had given his brother that night. Rick, again, gets blamed for his poor taste in music but Daryl doesn’t care.

The sound of a truck approaching Hilltop cuts their conversation short.

Paul propels himself off the chair and runs to the balcony to see who it is.

Daryl grabs his socks and boots before running after him. He’s glad that Maggie stays seated, out of sight and safer than they are from snipers. ‘Who is it? Paul?’

The scout has grabbed the binoculars from the ground and stares at the truck, following it as it heads down the swerving road to the gates. There’s a frown on his face as he lowers them. ‘Ezekiel. It’s Ezekiel.’

Daryl breathes a sigh of relief and puts his socks on. He wobbles while putting on the left and has to grab hold of Paul’s shoulder to stay upright. ‘Sorry.’ Another truck comes over the hill. ‘Two trucks? What’s going on?’

‘You made a deal, remember? Ezekiel is here to honor it.’

Daryl stomps his boots on and kneels to lace them up properly. The trucks enter Hilltop and park near the gate. When the engines are killed another noise fills the silence. He looks up at Paul with wide eyes. His mouth falls open in a silent laugh.

‘Yeah,’ Paul grins back. ‘Sheep.’

‘That’s fucking _awesome_!’ As he stands up and looks down at the trucks again, the other half of the deal comes to mind. The cover is pulled back and people jump out of the truck. They blink against the sudden sunlight. After a couple of seconds, the first take a few hesitant steps, looking around curiously. There are men and women, and even a couple of kids. The children spot the horses and skip over to the pen.

Daryl grits his teeth. Saviors. He watches how one of the dads quickly makes his way over to the children, yanking them back as if Khamsin is the dangerous one. He scolds them gently, probably nervous about being around so many new people. Or maybe it’s because Rick Grimes walks down the steps of Barrington house to greet the King, Rosita at his right hand.

‘I should head down and greet them,’ Paul says as he puts the binoculars away. ‘The expansion hasn’t completed yet, but I’ll find them places to stay. It doesn’t look like a big group.’

‘It ain’t,’ Daryl answers because he made the deal himself. ‘No soldiers. Just workers. Didn’t know there’d be kids though. They ain’t of much use to us.’

Paul frowns and Maggie scoffs behind them. ‘You were more useful at twelve than your dad was at forty. Go and meet the King, Dare. Please tell him I will be there as soon as I can,’ she says as she strokes the cheek of her baby boy.

‘Okay,’ Daryl dips his chin in acknowledgement and then looks at Paul. ‘Let’s go.’

A small smirk and the scout hops over the balustrade, sliding down the pillar to land on the porch with a soft thud. Daryl curses under his breath and puts his hand on the concrete, preparing to swing over himself.

‘Don’t even _think_ about it,’ Maggie snaps. ‘The stairs. Now.’

‘But Paul-‘

‘I don’t care. The stairs, Dare.’

He scowls but stops next to her to kiss his brother goodbye before dashing down the hallway, sliding down the handrail of the stairs, and running out of the house. Paul is already shaking hands with the King. Jerry is standing guard beside the man. His face lights up when he spots the teenager.

Daryl laughs and runs over. ‘Hey, man!’

‘Hey man, he says,’ Jerry laughs. He grabs the boy’s arm and pulls him into a hug. ‘We missed you, kid.’

‘Indeed we did,’ the King agrees.

For a second, Daryl hesitates. He thinks about shaking the man’s hand but then just steps forward to give him a hug as well. ‘Good to see you, your majesty.’

Ezekiel puts a heavy hand on his shoulder and squeezes. ‘And you, Daryl Dixon of Alexandria. We have heard joyous news, congratulations.’

‘Yeah, it’s pretty awesome, thanks,’ the younger man beams. ‘Maggie will meet you as soon as possible. Hershel was being a bit fuzzy. But welcome to Hilltop Colony, sir. Our hospitality is yours.’

‘Thank you, Daryl.’ Ezekiel looks around. ‘A blessed land indeed. We have held our end of the bargain, and brought the goods.’ He gestures to the truck with the sheep. ‘In the light of recent joyous occasions, we have granted you all a gift as well.’

‘A gift?’ Daryl asks, sounding eager and curious. He stands on the tips of his toes to try and see past Jerry. ‘What is it?’

Ezekiel reaches into the pocket of his trench coat and pulls a shiny apple out. He hands it to Daryl.

‘Oh, awesome! Thank you so much,’ Daryl grins as he rubs his thumb over the skin. ‘You brought us fruit?’

‘I will have, if you have patience,’ Ezekiel smiles. Behind him, several men take down large pot from the trucks. Daryl recognizes the plants growing in them immediately. Apple trees, like the ones that had grown in Alexandria before the burning.

‘Thank you,’ Daryl repeats, putting his hand over the King’s on his shoulder. He squeezes, too. ‘And we will hold our end of the deal, as well.’ He works his jaw for a brief moment. ‘Your people are welcome here. The expansion hasn’t been completed yet, but we will find housing for them.’ He glances at Paul.

‘That’s right,’ the scout smiles. ‘Let us welcome them.’ He gestures that Ezekiel can go first but the king doesn’t move.

‘I ask Rosita to take that task upon her,’ Ezekiel says. ‘I wish our visit was mere pleasure. There’s information I wish to share.’ The man looks at Rick. ‘We have important matters to discuss.’

 

 

‘And you’re sure it’s not one of your guards gone rogue? Some bullshit about practice or something?’ Merle asks while he studies the maps. It’s one drawn by the head of security at the Kingdom, with most of their patrols routes marked and the borders highlighted. Several other markers have been added. Black dots near the border. One inside of it.

‘We are certain,’ Ezekiel says gravely.

‘So what do you think it is?’ Rick asks. ‘A lone wolf?’

‘Bullshit,’ Merle answers before the King can even respond. ‘Ain’t no such thing in nature and there sure as shit ain’t no such thing in the New World.’ He reaches behind him, ‘monster, have a look, tell us what you think.’

Daryl slides off the windowsill and leans against his brother’s broad shoulders to look at the map. There are six dots in total. All of them mark slain walkers with deep gashes in their heads. Ezekiel claims that the wounds were made by a sword. None of his guards wield that kind of weapon.

The dots are widespread, some were found in the forest near the river, others closer to the city. The guards haven’t been able to determine a timeline for the killings. They’re not sure whether they’ve been killed randomly or that whoever is doing it is moving closer to the city.

Daryl studies the map and frowns.

Rick narrows his eyes. ‘What is it, Dare?’

‘Err, nothing. I don’t know.’

‘Spit it out, monster.’

Daryl scratches at his cheek. ‘Well,’ he glances at Maggie. ‘It’s kinda weird, I don’t think it matters, but… The walkers? They’re killed in cool places.’

Merle shifts in his seat so he can look up at his brother. ‘The hell?’

‘ _Cool places_?’ Maggie enquires. ‘What do you mean?’

‘This one, by the river?’ Daryl points at the map. ‘There’s a waterfall nearby, you can see it from this spot. I used to come there all the time, you know… to draw? It was… pretty, I guess. It’s a nice spot, anyway,’ he says hurriedly, ducking his head in embarrassment. ‘And this one is right next to that hidden camper or whatever, the one that Richard used? It’s been cleared out, but it’s still some kind of hideout. I haven’t been there in a while.’

‘What about this one,’ Paul asks as he points at another.

‘A stalled army jeep. Kinda dope.’

Rick leans back in his chair. ‘So what’s going on? Someone is visiting _cool places_ around the Kingdom and stabs some walkers while they’re at it? This doesn’t make sense.’

‘Does,’ Daryl murmurs. ‘They’re on their own. Back at the prison, I used to do the same thing. I wouldn’t take a walker on while I were hunting, but I’d clear the place where I was taking a break. And you know, I’d stop at cool places to check them out. That’s why there’s usually only one walker or – you said the most was three, right?’

Ezekiel nods.

‘They’re on their own,’ Daryl repeats. ‘I wouldn’t take on more than three either.’ He hesitates before looking at the King. ‘And if they’re looking for cool stuff… forest gets boring to most people. They’ll head to the city. They will find the Kingdom. And Merle’s right. Ain’t no such thing as a lone wolf no more. They’re from a community.’

Rick takes his Python out of the holster and checks the chamber. ‘It sounds like we need to find them first.’

Ezekiel eyes him. ‘We’ve had intruders before,’ he says with a slight smile and his gaze flicks to Paul, who smiles shyly. ‘Not everyone is an enemy.’

‘We won’t know until we know,’ Rick agrees. ‘But the war might be over, that doesn’t mean it was the last.’

‘First, we need to gather more information,’ the King decides. He focusses on Daryl. ‘I’ve come here to request your help.’

‘There are others,’ Maggie cuts in sharply. ‘You have soldiers.’

‘But not enough experienced trackers,’ Ezekiel says. ‘They’ve lost the trail after barely a mile. Perhaps Daryl will be able to track them further.’

‘He’s not some sniffer dog you can come loan,’ Merle snorts, crossing his arms in front of his chest. ‘Maggie is right. You got others, and if you have to; you got enough people to comb out those goddamn woods. Don’t need to track anything if you can trap it.’

Paul shifts in his seat. ‘It could be another community, one just like us. Isn’t that what we’ve been fighting for? A new world? They could-‘

‘They could be anything,’ Merle sniffs. ‘He ain’t going.’

‘I am.’ Daryl sits down in the windowsill again and swings his feet. They thud against the wall beneath him. ‘I’ll need a day to prepare, but I will return to the Kingdom with you and help you find this person. You’re right. We should know who they are.’

‘Dare,’ Maggie tries.

‘No. It’s done,’ Daryl says. ‘We can talk about it later, but it’s done. What’re the roads like, Jerry?’ he sinks back into the shadows as the man starts to give them an update on the area near the Kingdom.

 

 

‘Can I talk to you?’

Rick seems surprised but he pats the space next to him. ‘Of course.’

‘It’s kinda dumb, but…’ Daryl slides onto the bench. They’re sitting with their backs against the barn and watch how Judith helps a woman feed the chicken. She’s babbling about the sheep she’s just visited with her father. Blonde curls bounce as she skips around. Daryl pulls his feet up so he can hide behind his knees. ‘Remember, way back when we were on that bus, after the church? You said I could ask you if I ever wanted to know something about Shane.’

‘Oh! Yeah – of course,’ Rick sits up a little straighter. ‘What do you want to know?’

Daryl gnaws on his nails and shrugs. He studies his knees. ‘Do you think he’d like me?’

Rick frowns. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Like –right now. If he were here, would he like me?’

‘Of course – what? He’d love you, Dare. He loved you – I – I don’t understand.’

Daryl sighs. ‘I was talking with Merle the other day. He thinks Will would have hated my guts. And I know he would, right? Still kinda… feels weird, to know _know_. I hoped maybe Merle would be all _naah, monster, he’d be cool with you_. Stupid, huh?’

‘Oh you mean…’ Rick relaxes and slumps in his seat again, watching how his daughter is now picking flowers. ‘That’s not stupid at all, Dare. You loved your dad. And he loved you. There’s no point in speculating about what he would have thought of you now. He was a complicated man. He would have loved you for how strong you are, that’s for sure.’

Daryl smirks. ‘He were always bitching about y’all feeding me steroids.’

‘That’s not the kind of strength I’m talking about.’

‘I know.’

Rick looks at him and puts a hand on his knee. ‘Shane would have loved you. And he would have sent you to your room for ever doubting it.’

Daryl snorts. He readjusts the baseball cap, pushing some strands of his dark hair beneath it. ‘Weren’t doubting it, really. Just… Never mind.’

Rick nods and squeezes his knee, leaning a little closer so their shoulders are touching. ‘He wouldn’t have been too fond of Jesus right now, however.’

Panic causes Daryl to freeze.

‘He wouldn’t have been too fond of anyone making eyes at his kid,’ Rick laughs. ‘Did Jesus think that avoiding us like the plague would help?’ He shoves his knee playfully. ‘Stop looking like I’ll kill him. Or you. He’s still breathing, so Maggie showed some mercy at least.’

‘Ain’t what it looks like.’

‘So he didn’t finally succumb to the infamous finger gun method?’ Rick smirks. ‘I might be old but I’m not blind, Daryl.’

‘He wants to be friends. Just friends.’

‘Good.’

Daryl sighs and closes his eyes, leaning back against the wall. ‘Whatever.’

‘He’s a good man, but-‘

‘Can we stop talkin’ about it? There ain’t nothing going on.’

Rick sucks on his teeth and looks away. ‘Fine. Does Merle know?’

‘Paul’s still breathing, ain’t he?’

‘You should give your brother more credit.’

‘We’re done talking about it.’

Rick huffs out a breath of laughter. ‘Yes, sir.’ Then he turns to the teenager. ‘Why do you want to go back with Ezekiel? If it’s… you don’t have anything to prove, to anyone.’

Daryl opens his eyes again. ‘I know that. Glenn believed in the idea of a new world, and we’re not alone. It can’t just be us out here. There are others and they will find us eventually. They’re pretty close to finding the Kingdom. Someone is out there, we know that. Just need to find out who they are and what they’re looking for. If it’s someone like Aaron, our world will just get bigger.’

‘Do you think it’s someone like Aaron?’

Daryl shrugs. ‘They stopped to admire the view. They thought an army truck looked pretty cool. Doesn’t sound like much of a threat to me.’ He looks at Rick. ‘Sounds like someone just like me, or Enid.’

‘And you’d call them _not much of a threat_?’

The teenager smirks.

Rick’s eyes darken. ‘What if it’s not someone like Aaron?’

Daryl looks back at Judith who is now wearing a flower crown. Her dress is filthy from running around all day. She’s giggling at something the woman is saying, hands covering her mouth to smother the sound.

‘Dare? What if it’s not someone like Aaron?’

‘I’ll kill them.’

 

 

 


	18. Missed shots

 

 

* * *

 

 

‘Wake up, you asshole!’ Daryl kicks against the bars and watches how Negan wakes with a start. A bed has been placed inside the cell. He has blankets and a pillow now, though he sleeps with his face pressed into the matrass. One arm is curled around the pillow, almost like he was hugging it in his sleep. Long limbs uncurl as he sits up.

‘Are you kidding me, little prince?’ One hand rubs at his face, fingernails scratching at his beard before he shoots the young man a smile. He gets up, stretches, and then walks over to the bars to lean against them with one arm. ‘Good fucking morning.’

‘Good fucking morning,’ Daryl echoes with a grin. He bounces on the balls of his feet. ‘I’m a big brother.’

Negan yawns and lets his forehead come to rest against the bars. ‘What? You had some cute-as-shit adoption ceremony or something? Changed your last name to Grimes to seal the deal? I heard Rick the dick left town, didn’t know he was going to steal my boy.’

Daryl kicks the bars again. ‘Maggie had a son, you idiot.’

The tiredness disappears from the man’s face. A soft smile causes his eyes to shine brightly. ‘Really? And they’re both okay? Her and the kid?’

‘Yeah. She’s okay now, and he’s perfect.’

‘That’s fucking awesome, little prince. Congratulations.’ Negan reaches out and cups his cheek, thumb stroking it while he leans against the bars. ‘Look at you,’ he laughs. ‘Big brother Daryl.’

‘Yeah. Well, I already were one – kinda. With Ass kicker, but… I dunno, I’m just excited.’

‘I can tell,’ the man grins. The smile fades as Negan grabs hold of his chin and studies the younger man. ‘What I don’t understand is why you’re here. Some random-ass guard is bringing me my meals, so Rick fucked right out of here and took his little gang with him. And you might all be a bunch of busy bees, but there’s no way in hell Alexandria is rebuilt. I burned that shit to the ground. Theory of the scorched earth, my little king. They can’t _all_ be living there. Rick? Maybe. Living on his goddamn pride and my ashes, but not all of them. So they’re at Hilltop, right? With Maggie who just had a son.’ He shakes Daryl’s head from left to right mockingly. ‘Makes _no_ sense for you to be here. What’s wrong?’

‘There’s someone sniffin’ around our borders,’ Daryl says as he bats Negan’s hand away. ‘Ezekiel asked me to come back and see if I can track them down, or find out where their camp is. It shouldn’t be too hard.’

Negan’s expression darkens. His hand curls around the bar. ‘It shouldn’t be _your_ job. Did the Kingdom run out of grown-ups?’

Daryl rolls his eyes. ‘You sound like Maggie. It’s fine, I can do it. Hell, I’m the best hunter and I owe Ezekiel a lot more than this.’

‘Maggie didn’t want you to do it?’

‘Nah. Said it was dangerous. _Everything_ is dangerous these days!’

Negan tilts his head to the side. ‘That doesn’t mean you should go looking for trouble, little prince.’

‘Pfft.’ He leans with his shoulder against the bars and looks up at the man. ‘She even sent Paul with me like some kind of bodyguard.’

‘Paul?’

‘Jesus.’

‘Ah,’ Negan nods. ‘The nosy little shit from Hilltop.’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl grins but the smile fades quickly. ‘Maggie was pretty mad though. Like – she helped me pack up my stuff and checked my guns and everything, but she were real mad. She wouldn’t even say goodbye to me, just made me say bye to Hershey and kicked me out. I asked her to give my homework to Aaron and she threw it into the fucking fire! Like – what the fuck? Now I gotta do it all again when I come back!’

The man frowns. ‘She’s probably just worried about you and overreacted.’ He watches how the younger man avoids his eye. The ears sticking out of the dark hair burn. The man narrows his eyes and leans closer, staring at the teenager. ‘Stop bullshitting me and tell the whole story. What did you do?’

‘Didn’t do nothing.’

‘What did you _say_?’

Daryl scowls at his feet. ‘Nothing! Just – Said Glenn would have wanted me to go. She got mad.’

Negan hums softly. ‘ _Would_ he have wanted you to go?’

‘Dunno.’ He folds his arms in front of his chest and chews on his lip. ‘Probably not. Would have let me though, in the end.’

‘See, what’s happening here is two things,’ Negan grins. ‘You’re being a little shit by using the dead, especially _her dead fucking husband_ , to convince her and yourself that you’re doing God’s work. She knows you’re fucking lying. So why would our little psychopath,’ the man reaches out and taps his nose, ‘want to go out there?’

‘I ain’t no psychopath!’

‘Well, you’re lying about why you want to go out there, so it must be something bad.’

‘I ain’t even lyin’, you stupid fucking asshole! There’s someone snooping around our borders. We need to find out who they are and what they want. I can find them. We can follow them back, see their community, or maybe we can catch that person and ask them the questions.’

‘The questions?’ Negan asks skeptically.

‘How many walkers have you killed? How many people have you killed? Why?’

The man starts to laugh, the voice dark and the sound chilling. It sends shivers up Daryl’s spine. After a couple of seconds, the sound fades and Negan looks down at him with mirth still dancing in his eyes. ‘ _You_ are going to ask those questions?’

Daryl works his jaw. ‘Yeah.’

‘ _Hypocrite_ ,’ Negan whispers before laughing again. ‘That’s fucking funny, little prince. You can act noble all you want, hell, call it your goddamn sacred mission to fucking expand your precious New World. Play Christopher Columbus, I don’t give a fuck, but don’t fool yourself, boy; those explorers of old? They wanted the same thing as you do. To explore, and to conquer. To _own_. You thought all they did was jump on land and shake hands with those living there? Come on,’ Negan grins. ‘You know it doesn’t work like that. People are a resource!’

‘What’re you even saying?’ Daryl frowns. He doesn’t know the tales of old, though the name Columbus sounds vaguely familiar.

‘You want to find them, and you want to kill them.’

‘No I don’t! You’re just makin’ shit up now! I didn’t even say that!’

Negan lifts an eyebrow. ‘And yet Maggie is mad when her sweet, peace-loving son jumps at the opportunity to hunt down some people in the woods.’ He sighs dramatically and slumps against the bars, pretending to be sad. ‘And you were doing so well, too! Doing your homework? _Aahw_. You were almost innocent and she fucked it up.’

‘You don’t even know her! Stop fucking talking about her!’

‘Touchy touchy,’ Negan laughs. He wriggles his eyebrows. ‘Sore spot, little prince? Now, I _love_ that about you thing! Hell, you fucked up two of my grown-ass men with a piece of wood. Not gonna lie, that _still_ makes me hard just thinking about it.’

Daryl takes a step back and groans, ‘you’re such a freak! Good lord!’ He frowns. ‘You’re wrong about me. You don’t know me, or Maggie.’

‘Know what it’s like to have a kid,’ Negan grins. The smile is infectious and grows wider when he sees that Daryl is repressing his own. ‘I’m fucking with you. She’s just worried. You were probably all noble about it, not listening to another plan, yeah. That’s what I thought. I’d be pretty pissed too. But she’s letting you go because she knows you can do it.’ He reaches out and pats Daryl’s cheek. ‘Make her proud, huh? No mass murder this time. Behave.’

Daryl leans into the touch. He chews on his lip before glancing up at the man. ‘Did you have a kid? Before this?’

‘No.’ A strange emotion flickers over Negan’s face. He seems to be searching for the right words. ‘Had a wife,’ he says after a second. ‘Before.’

‘What happened to her?’

Negan smiles and then puts his hand over the young man’s face, pushing him away. ‘None of your fucking business, you little shit. Get out of here and leave me the hell alone.’

Daryl shrugs and walks towards the door. He looks back with his hand on the handle. Negan is standing in the middle of the cell, where the light hits his face. His eyes are closed, chin titled up to enjoy the sunshine. He seems tired.

‘Hey,’ Daryl says.

Negan looks at him.

‘I’m sorry you lost her.’

Negan closes his eyes and turns back to the sunshine. ‘I didn’t deserve her anyway.’

‘Probably not. You’re a fucking asshole,’ Daryl agrees. He smiles when he sees that the corner of Negan’s mouth quirks up. ‘See you later, Negan.’

The door closes behind him. After nodding to the guard, he walks down the long hallway. He can hear the lock clicking shut and wonders whether Negan hates that sound too.

It’s early in the morning. The air feels crisp and new as he steps out onto the porch. It burns his lungs. He stretches, fingertips reaching for the sky, and his shirt rides up to reveal a strip of skin and trail of hair leading down to his belt. When his hands fall to his sides again, he smirks at Paul.

‘He’s still alive.’

Paul sits on the balustrade. His hands are wrapped around a steaming cup of tea, eyes bloodshot and hair a mess. He looks annoyed. ‘Good. Can you try to assassinate him at a normal time of day next time?’

‘Nobody asked you to watch my ass.’

‘Maggie did.’

Daryl smirks, ‘I thought she told you to stop looking at it?’

Paul groans and bows over his cup of tea. ‘Don’t. Don’t do this at six in the morning.’

‘Wanna do something else instead?’

‘I hate you.’

‘Sure you do,’ Daryl laughs. ‘Ain’t no reason for you to be here anyway, I’m not going to kill him. We were just talking.’

Paul looks doubtful.

‘I don’t care if you don’t believe me.’ Daryl yawns, ‘but stop following me around. Go back to bed, man. You look like a truck ran you over.’

The scout slides off the banister. He takes a sip of his tea and then hands it to the younger man. ‘Fine, here, you finish it. It’s pretty good.’ He takes a couple of steps towards the house and then turns around again. ‘What are you going to do?’

‘Run some laps, see if Morgan is up for some sparring. Dunno. Why?’ Daryl wriggles his eyebrows. ‘We got other plans?’

Paul groans again, ‘why are you like this? Can you go back to being that silent, glaring shadow in the corner? You’re going to be the death of me.’

‘La petite mort.’

‘Who taught you _that_?’ Paul sounds outraged.

‘Tara,’ Daryl sniggers. ‘Well, she didn’t really teach me. She were joking about it with someone and Carl and I were just – ya know? Snoopin’,’ Daryl grins. ‘Overheard.’

‘No wonder everyone calls you double trouble, you’re both terrible. And so is your French accent.’

‘It’s _French_?’ Daryl asks eagerly. ‘That’s sick! Do you speak French? Can you teach me?’

Paul’s smile softens. ‘Yeah, it’s French, and yes, I do speak it but not that well. Focus on your Spanish, or Rosita will kill you for me.’

The younger man grins. ‘Fine. Head out in three hours? I’ll meet you at the barn. See you later, Paul!’ He starts running and doesn’t look back to see how the man shakes his head fondly before heading back to his own room.

 

 

It doesn’t surprise Daryl that Morgan joins them on their search. He doesn’t mind either because the man is quiet, and deadly when he wants to be. He doesn’t know the area as well as Daryl, and has no problem with following the teenager’s lead. Right now he urges his chestnut stallion down a small slope to keep up with Khamsin.

They’ve just been to the place where the slain walkers had first been sighted. The corpses have disappeared of course, taken by wild animals, with just a couple of bones and shoes in their place. The ground had been equally as useless. Too many guards had disturbed the earth around it. There’s no telling which set of print had belonged to the stranger, if any.

They’re heading out to the next spot, though Daryl doubts they’ll have much luck there. He has argued that they should head further into the woods or maybe push south to find new leads, but Paul wants to visit all the known spots first.

‘What’s going to happen?’ Morgan asks as he reclaims his spot on Daryl’s right. ‘When we find this person?’ he clarifies when the teenager shoots him a questioning look.

‘Guess we’ll have to wait and see, huh?’ Daryl answers.

‘What if-‘

‘Look, you’re not the first person to climb up my asshole about it, okay? Rick, Maggie, Merle, Michonne, Ezekiel, even fucking Negan beat you to it. We’ll just have to wait and see. If it turns out they’re good, well, fucking great. They ain’t? I’ll do what needs to be done.’

‘And what’s that?’

‘Arrow in the ass.’

Morgan doesn’t laugh or even smile.

Daryl quickly wipes the smirk off his own face.

‘They won’t be alone,’ Morgan says as his eyes scan the forest around them. ‘You’d start another war?’

Daryl shrugs. ‘Maybe. Or we follow this person back to their community. Scout it out. And when it gets dark? We slip inside and slit their throats while they’re sleeping. Shouldn’t be too hard,’ he ducks to avoid a low hanging branch and leans forward to kiss Khamsin’s neck briefly. ‘We’ve done it before.’

Morgan looks at him. ‘And you’d be able to live with that? Again? The nightmares, the guilt, the-‘

‘I’ll be able to live with it _still_ ,’ Daryl snaps.

‘What do you mean?’

‘The war never ended,’ Daryl says before clacking his tongue and urging Khamsin to go faster, ‘not for me.’ He brushes his cheek over his shoulder and sniffs, ‘let’s just fucking find them first, worry about the rest later. Come on girl, go, go, go!’ The horse jumps forward, just a streak of honey in the bright sunlight as her hooves hit the soft earth. Dirt splashes around them and Daryl has to sit low in the saddle to avoid some branches and leaves. Some still hit his bare arms but he doesn’t care.

The woods are quiet around them. The occasional walker stumbles in the distance, some are trapped in bushes, rotting hands reaching for the horses. Khamsin doesn’t fear them when they keep their distance, rushing past without paying them any attention. Julia has trained her well, though her spirited nature helps. She doesn’t fear many things.

The only thing that always makes her pause is something they cross minutes later.

Daryl makes a shushing sound, tightening his reins to get some more control and shifting in his saddle to urge her forward despite her resistance. ‘Nothing to be scared of,’ he tells her. ‘We’re going to be okay. You can even jump it if you want,’ he rises in the saddle.

Khamsin neighs softly and nervously steps in place.

‘We ain’t scared of nothing, right?’ Daryl asks her. ‘It’s okay, girl. It’s okay. I wouldn’t ask you to do anything that might hurt ya.’

The horse turns in a tight circle, neighs again and then steps forward.

‘That’s it,’ Daryl grins as he pets her neck. ‘It’s just water! We ain’t scared of no water!’

It’s just a little stream, barely deep enough to soak her hooves but the shimmering surface always looks alien to the hose, too unsteady to tread on. Their depth perception is almost zero, so the tiny stream might as well be a plunging river. It also doesn’t help that Khamsin is very young. The fastest horse of the Kingdom, and Daryl would claim she’s the most beautiful too, but wild and inexperienced.

Beth has been training her further, but the fear of water will always be a hurdle that only a deep trust in her rider or simply following the lead of another horse will be able to solve.

‘Good job,’ Daryl praises as she nervously darts to the other side, jumping the last couple of feet to get onto the bank and out of the devilish substance.

Behind him, Morgan’s horse easily steps into the water without a care in the world.

‘They saw you do it,’ Daryl whispers. ‘Don’t you worry about it. You’re the biggest badass, they’re just pussies!’

‘I’m sorry?’ Morgan asks.

‘Nothing,’ Daryl grins. ‘Let’s join up with Paul, maybe he saw something on the main road.’

They turn right and follow the trail up to the main road. There’s no sign of the scout yet, but Daryl is not surprised. They’ve galloped for a while, the forest too dense to pick up any trail randomly, but Paul must have taken his time to search the side of the road for any prints or signs that someone has passed through recently.

Daryl dismounts and lets Khamsin eat the grass and flowers and stretch her legs without him. He stands guard between the trees, eyeing the road while his horse explores the forest. Unlike Morgan’s horse, who just stays right next to him, Khamsin investigates the immediate area, ears swiveling curiously and neighing softly to try and get Daryl’s attention.

‘What did you find girl?’ Morgan asks with a smile before he turns to the young man. ‘Does she know she’s a horse and not a puppy?’

‘Nobody tell her,’ Daryl snorts. ‘She’ll be fucking heartbroken.’ He rummages around in his pocket and pulls out a silver cigarette case. Merle had found it on a walker and had passed it onto him just before he left for the Kingdom. There are five cigarettes in there. Daryl pulls one out and lights it, breathing in the smoke. It dances in the air before vanishing.

Suddenly he looks up at Morgan. ‘Hey. Do you speak French?’

‘I don’t,’ Morgan says with a shake of his head. ‘Why?’

‘Nothing. Just wonderin’.’ He smokes his cigarette and surveys the area. Suddenly he lets the butt fall from his fingers, carefully putting it out with the heel of his boot before quietly grabbing his bow.

‘Daryl?’

‘ _Ssh_ ,’ Daryl hisses, eyes on the other tree line. ‘Watch the horses.’

‘Do you see them?’

‘Shut the fuck up,’ Daryl whispers as he creeps forward, loading his bow before kneeling in the tall grass. He brings his bow up and peers down the sight. There’s hardly any wind and he can see the shadow moving between the trees. The angle isn’t very good, however. So he quickly runs along the tree line, feet silent as he ducks in and out of the shadows weaves through the bushes and then jumps over a log to take aim again.

The corner of his mouth quirks up. It’s a perfect shot.

He adjusts his sight slightly, aiming higher to compensate for the distance, and then slowly – slowly pulls the trigger.

Just as his bolt leaves the crossbow, the end of Morgan’s Bo tips the weapon to the side. He watches with baited breath how the bolt disappear into the forest.

The shadow freezes and then jumps forward, onto the main road.

It’s a deer. It jumps away, first a couple of feet over the hot asphalt before darting back into the safety of the trees and disappearing from view.

Morgan watches it go. ‘I’m sorry – I thought-‘

‘ _You fucking asshole_!’ Daryl roars as he jumps up and pushes the man away. It causes him to stumble over the log, falling onto his backside and staring up at the young man. ‘It was an easy shot, I would have fucking had it, you dumb piece of shit! Why the fuck did you do that? You fucking confused again? You don’t end nothing no more? Save Bambi? That was dinner for a fuckton of families back home!’

‘I’m sorry, Daryl,’ Morgan tries. ‘I thought it was whoever we’re tracking.’

‘We’re not even tracking anyone!’ Daryl shouts. ‘Do you see any tracks around here? No! You-‘

Khamsin’s scared neighs attract his attention. His gaze snaps up to see his horse rearing, feet stomping a walker away before she turns and bucks, trying to kick another. He’s running before he even realizes it, throwing his crossbow onto the ground to go faster. It would take too long to reload anyway. He grabs his gun, slides to a stop and aims.

The walker falls before he shoots. There’s a knife sticking out of the skull while it goes down.

A second, and then Paul swoops in, kicking the walker back with a mighty blow so he has time to yank the knife out and throw it into the other skull. It falls down, still and silent. The scout backs away from the frightened horse, hands up like it’s an armed threat.

With a snarl, Daryl turns back to Morgan. A couple of big steps and then he kicks the man in his side just as he’s about to get up, forcing him back down. He pushes with his boot against the shoulder and Morgan rolls onto his back.

‘Daryl, I-‘

‘I told you to stay with the horses! She could have fucking died!’ Daryl screams as he steps over the man with one foot and sit down on his chest. He grabs hold of his cheeks with a hand, raising the other, balled as a fist. ‘You fucking asshole, _I could have fucking lost her!_ ’

‘I’m sorry!’

‘ _You’re gonna be_!’

‘Daryl!’ Paul calls out sharply. ‘Daryl, please. Come get her, I – she won’t calm down.’

Daryl stares down at the man beneath him. Slowly, he lowers his fist.

Morgan breathes out a sigh of relief.

‘You piece of shit,’ Daryl whispers before spitting in his face. Then he gets up and heads back to his horse, grabbing his crossbow off the ground along the way. ‘Easy girl. Easy. It’s me, just me,’ he shushes, holding out his hand to grab Khamsin’s reins.

The horse darts away, still spooked by the encounter and raised voices.

‘I know,’ Daryl says. ‘Okay, Okay – I won’t grab them reins, girl. Just gonna stand here, huh? Yeah. Hi. You did so good, kicking ‘em like that huh? Yeah,’ he laughs when Khamsin’s ears swivel to him. ‘It’s me. Gonna give me a hug now? ‘cause it’s okay to be a little scared after that, you goof.’

Khamsin’s foot scrapes over the floor nervously.

‘I know,’ Daryl nods. ‘Me, too. We hate him. Lost us a deer! Pffft. Hey,’ he grins when the horse walks over to him, booping his shoulder with her nose. He strokes her cheek and neck, brushing some of her hair out of her face. ‘I love you. I’m real sorry, okay? Won’t happen again,’ he leans against her, letting the warmth of her coat soak into him.

After a couple of seconds, he kisses her one last time before grabbing the reins and letting her step over to where Paul is tending to the other two horses. ‘Hey. Thanks, man.’

‘Of course.’ Paul’s gaze flicks to Morgan, who is standing up now and wipes the spit of this face. ‘What happened?’

‘He fucked us over because he thought I was off murdering some asshole. Messed up my shot ‘nd everything. I was going to bag a damn deer, not some dude,’ Daryl says as he swings himself into the saddle again. ‘Did you find anything?’

‘No,’ Paul says. ‘Want to go back to the Kingdom, or continue to the next spot?’

‘The next spot,’ Daryl says as he lets Khamsin trot towards the road. Then he turns in his saddle. ‘You better find my fucking bolt, Morgan. Ain’t asking. And if it’s messed up, you owe me a new one.’

Morgan sighs but nods.

‘Daryl,’ Paul says softly as he leads his horse over to the younger man. ‘He made a _mistake_.’

‘That almost cost me Khamsin,’ Daryl says with a snarl. ‘I don’t give a damn about that deer, or the fact that he thinks I’m a fucking murderin’ psychopath. He deserves to be swallowing his teeth right now for putting her in danger, so don’t _Daryl_ me.’

 

 

Morgan never finds the bolt.

Daryl never finds fresh tracks.

 

 

It feels strange to walk through the city. The buildings rise high above him and the wind howls around the concrete corners. There’s trash filling up the curbs, glass shattering beneath his boots as he follows the crudely drawn map to a small mall. He passes offices and barricades, climbs onto a burned out tank and then jumps into a chain-linked fence. It rattles while he climbs over it.

He runs down the street and hops into a shop via the smashed-out window.

The fence rattles again.

Daryl narrows his eyes and sneaks towards the back entrance. The street behind the shop is empty. There’s a police car parked on the sidewalk. He quickly slides his crossbow beneath it and scoffs the asphalt with his boots before running back to the door, pressing himself against the wall.

The person runs out of the building, straight past him and comes to a halt next to the police car.

They look down at the marks and then turn around quickly.

‘Gotcha,’ Daryl smirks, pointing a gun into Paul’s face. ‘Why’re you followin’ me?’

Paul quirks an eyebrow.

Daryl lowers the gun

‘Thank you. I was just wondering where you were going.’

‘You could have just asked,’ Daryl huffs as he grabs his crossbow. ‘Some scout from the Kingdoms said there’s a baby store nearby. Just wanna make sure it’s empty. Maybe find some toy store or something? Get Kiss a present, ya know?’

Paul smiles. ‘Can I come with you?’

‘So you can watch my ass some more? Sure! Be my fucking guest.’ Daryl laughs when Paul wipes hand over his face. ‘Fine, I’ll cut it out. Yeah – you can come.’ He wriggles his eyebrows before sniggering again.

Paul shoves his shoulder. ‘You demon.’

They walk down the streets, side by side through the quarantine zone. It doesn’t take them very long to reach the store. Most of the shelves have been cleared and they have no need for cribs or car seats. The stuffed toys are moldy. Most have them have gotten wet at some point and Daryl wrinkles his nose before moving on.

‘This might be something for him,’ Paul murmurs from the other side of the store.

Daryl makes his way to him and grins. There are several wooden toys stalled out on a big shelve. The colors have bleached from the wood by the sunshine, but they seem intact otherwise. There’s no mold on them, at least. There are cars and rattles.

He opens his bag and stuffs two small cars into it. ‘He’ll love those when he’s a little bit bigger. Oh!’ He grabs a box, ‘check it out! It’s like – it’s a tool box! Got a hammer, saw, tiny bolts, oh that’s awesome. For Kicker, right? That’s sick.’

Paul grins, ‘sure. Make a pile of what you want to bring back, I can put some into my bag, too. I’ll keep an eye on the street.’

‘Thanks, man,’ Daryl beams. It takes him a while to decide on what to pick. When he has finally made his decision, he puts the toys into the two backpacks and hauls them over to his friend.  Okay, I’m ready to go back. Anything out there?’ He passes Paul’s bag to him.

‘Walker on our four – _what the hell did you take_?’

‘Just a couple of things,’ Daryl smiles.

‘Let me feel your bag,’ Paul says as he reaches for Daryl’s, but he swings it onto his back.

‘What? No. Come on, let’s just go back.’

‘Did you stuff mine so that you just have to carry two blocks or something? Christ! This is _heavy_ , Daryl!’

‘Well, you’re a grown ass man, I’m just a boy, right?’ Daryl wobbles on his feet and tries to look innocent. ‘You can carry the heavy bag.’

Paul swings the bag and hits him in the stomach with it. ‘No.’

‘Fine,’ they switch bags and Paul clips him over the back of the head when he feels how light his backpack is now. Daryl laughs and elbows him right back. ‘Hey,’ he wipes his nose on the back of his hand and glances at his feet before looking at Paul. ‘Glad we’re… you know? Cool.’

‘Weird,’ Paul corrects with a smirk.

‘Cool weird,’ Daryl agrees.

Out on the street, the walker collides with a crowd control barrier. The whole thing goes down with it, metal clanging onto concrete. The sound is deafening in the silence of the new world.

They freeze.

The groans of a herd follows the noise. Shuffling feet, bodies falling over, growls of undead mouth needing flesh.

‘Run!’ Paul hisses as he takes off, slipping around the corner and heading back towards the Kingdom. They can lose the walkers in the maze of the city easily enough.

With his heart pounding in his throat, he follows the scout through alley’s, jumping over trashcans and vaulting stalled cars, just running as fast as he ran. Two blocks out, he glances at Paul and grins at the fact that he can easily keep up with the man.

Paul grins back at him.

Maybe that’s why neither of them sees the door open in time.

‘ _Holy_ _fucking_ -‘ Daryl barely avoids it swinging open, he stumbles, turns and comes to a halt. Paul has sped past him but slips to a stop further down the street.

 

There’s a man standing right in front of Daryl. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, clearly out of breath, too. There’s sweat dripping down the side of his face, down his neck, onto his chest. One shoulder and breast is wrapped up by leather. Nothing like any of the armor Daryl has ever seen. Sturdy boots and dark jeans, like anyone these days, but there’s a blinking curved sword hanging from his hip.

Dark eyes and dark skin, blinking white teeth when the man suddenly smiles.

‘Hey.’

Daryl blinks and takes a step backwards. ‘Hey…’

‘The dead are coming,’ the man says. He can’t be much older than the Dixon. ‘Are you going to kill me?’

‘What?’

He looks down at Daryl’s hand pointedly. It’s wrapped around his hunting knife.

‘Oh. No.’

‘Awesome,’ the man grins. He looks over his shoulder and then kicks the door closed.

‘Who the fuck are you?’ Daryl grabs his gun and takes aim, cursing himself for taking so long.

‘You said you wouldn’t kill me.’

‘Where are you from?’

Suddenly a radio crackles. The man’s eyes grow wide but he’s too late with reaching for the button on the side to mute it.

‘Taiwo?’ A woman’s voice comes, sounding angry and short. ‘Where the hell are you? Come back to the city, Mason is _super_ pissed. I’ve been covering for you but-’

The button is pressed and the voice disappears.

‘Who was that? You’re from a community?’ Daryl demands to know as he pushes his gun into the man’s face. ‘The city? She means D.C? You’re from-‘

‘You ask a lot of questions,’ Taiwo says as he eyes the gun. ‘But it’s time for us both to go. And your friend, too.’ He nods at Paul, who’s slowly creeping closer to them, a throwing knife in his right hand. ‘The dead, remember?’

‘You think I’m just gonna let you leave, nah, you’re coming with us, so best get-‘

‘ _Daryl_!’

Everything seems to explode around them. There’s smoke and a flash of heat. He braces for impact, flinging the arm with his gun in front of his face to protect his eyes, but there’s no impact. Just smoke.

‘Daryl?’

Running footsteps and maybe the hint of laughter fades away from him.

‘What the hell.’ Daryl coughs as he inhales the smoke and takes a few stumbling steps backwards, right into Paul who pulls him further away.

‘Are you okay? He’s gone,’ the scout says as he checks his friend over. ‘You’re okay. Christ. Let’s go.’

‘You just let him slip away like that?’

‘Yeah, we need to go!’ Paul pulls at him arm as the first walkers burst through the door. ‘ _Run_!’

 

 

An hour later, they’re walking through the high grass near the Kingdom’s gates. The tension finally bleeds out of their bodies and Paul starts to laugh.

‘Are you going to meet every one of your boyfriends like that? Just bumping into them in the middle of nowhere?’

Daryl glances over his shoulder and scowls at the city.

‘I mean, I bumped into Rick, technically, but… You know,’ Paul shrugs and skips a couple of steps. ‘Just a joke, Daryl. We’ve been combing out those woods for days now and we just bump into one of them here. What are the odds, right?’

Silence rings out between them.

‘Daryl?’ Paul prompts.

‘He didn’t have a gun. A radio, fucking sword and a smoke bomb, but he didn’t have a gun.’

‘No,’ Paul says slowly, drawing out the word.

Daryl smirks at him. ‘Gonna be one hell of a quick war.’


	19. Xidachane

 

* * *

 

 

‘Isn’t it weird how we finally made it all the way to D.C.?’ Carl asks as he swings his legs and looks down at the Kingdom. ‘Remember when that was the plan? To get Eugene to the capitol and be the saviors of all mankind?’ He shakes his head with a laugh. ‘Stupid.’

‘Yeah. It was.’ Daryl lights his cigarette.

‘I remember you hated it back then, too.’

‘Yup. Different reason now though.’ He shifts so their backs are pressed together and he tilts his head back so he can look at the darkening sky. They’re sitting on top of Ezekiel’s theatre, having just escaped the council meeting called by the King to decide what to do with the new community.

It’s been two weeks since Daryl and Paul ran into the stranger on the streets of the capitol. By now, they know where the community is in D.C, and that it’s about the size of the Kingdom. There are several neighborhoods with children running in the streets. They have livestock and power, but nobody has yet spotted a gun on any of the guards.

Daryl has been out there with a couple of scouts from the Kingdom. He thinks he might have caught a glimpse of the stranger in one of the playgrounds but he couldn’t be sure. There are guards and soldiers but hardly any scouts. The great wall surrounding the community has four main gates but they hardly ever open.

Once, a scout had seen a small group leave the complex. A group of soldiers and a young woman on a horse, clearly leading them. And clearly looking for someone.

‘Hey,’ Carl lets his head fall onto his brother’s shoulder, nuzzling his ear to get his attention. ‘Enid said you and Maggie were fighting.’

‘You two the town gossips now? Turnin’ into one of them old ladies who don’t got nothing better to do?’

Carl bites at his ear. ‘No. She’s just concerned about you. She said Maggie was super upset.’

‘Yeah – well, shut the fuck up about it.’

His brother snorts. ‘What did you do?’

‘Oh, so she radioed you to tell you all about that I fucked up, and Maggie’s so upset, _boo hoo hoo,_ but she didn’t tell you how I did it? Yeah _right_. Go mind your own fucking business, Grimes. Leave me alone. Ain’t none of your business. Stop sticking your nose in, and tell your girlfriend to piss off too.’

Carl hums under his breath and doesn’t sound offended by the flood of anger. He inspects his silenced gun, staring down the barrel and aiming at a couple of birds high above the treetops. Then he puts it away again. ‘Fine, don’t tell me then. You know how Beth used to call Shane our Dixon translator? Bet Maggie misses him, too. Glenn was kinda good at it too, but-‘

‘Stop talking about them.’

‘What do you wanna talk about then? You don’t want to talk about how you pissed Maggie off. Shane and Glenn are forbidding topics.’ Carl hums. ‘What about Morgan? Did you make up with him yet?’

‘I didn’t do nothing wrong.’

Carl scoffs.

‘The hell?’ Daryl sits up and swivels around on the ledge, cigarette dangling from his lower lip. He glares at his brother, who turns too so they are facing each other. ‘He messed up my shot. He almost got Khamsin bitten and torn to pieces because he wouldn’t listen to me. I told him to stay with her!’

‘It was an accident, and Khamsin didn’t get hurt.’

‘Not thanks to him!’

‘Jesus said you _spat_ on him?’

‘ _Jesus said_ ,’ Daryl repeats in a whiny tone. ‘Go fuck yourself, Grimes. He almost got my horse killed.’

Carl sighs and looks out over the community. ‘I don’t understand why you didn’t just say it was a deer before you snuck off to bag it. How was he supposed to know you weren’t putting an arrow in some guy’s ass? If it’d been you and me? I would have fucked up your shot too, and Khamsin would have been in danger, too.’

Daryl frowns. ‘I told you we would find out who they are, what they’re about. I _told_ you I wouldn’t-‘

‘You’re a filthy liar and everyone knows it.’

The Dixon grits his teeth and lets the smoke burn in his lungs before exhaling slowly. ‘That what you think about me, huh?’

‘That’s what I know about you. And you’re stubborn. It’s a bad combination, brother. You should be grateful Morgan didn’t turn on you.’

Daryl scoffs.

‘He voted against the plan.’

‘The rest didn’t. We’re going through with it.’ Daryl rubs at his lower lip and looks in the direction of the city. He can’t see further than the school, can’t even see the wall, but he knows what lies ahead.

The plan is simple. He will let himself be captured by the roaming squad of soldiers and they will bring him back to the community. It will be up to Carl and his group to get him out alive if it turns out they aren’t friendly after all. The stranger hadn’t tried to kill him, and the soldiers aren’t exactly armed to the teeth while they search for him, so he hopes that his gut feeling turns out to be right.

It had taken days to convince everyone that it’s a solid plan. Paul is still on the fence and Ezekiel caved only yesterday, but his brother doesn’t seem too concerned. It might be because Carl is always armed, his trusted silenced gun strapped to his thigh. He brought sniper rifles from Alexandria, too. Automatic guns, handguns. Grenades.

Daryl is used to people creating chaos and then getting out safely. He doesn’t doubt that he will be able to do it inside that community.

‘I don’t like the plan either,’ Carl says.

‘You agreed. You can’t back out now,’ Daryl snaps.

It had warmed something inside his chest to know that Ezekiel had called for all leaders to attend the council and see his brother walk through the gates days later. Scuffed sneakers, munching on an apple he’d found along the way, sheriff’s hat askew. There had been people accompanying him of course, but he’d stepped forward to shake Ezekiel’s hand warmly and took his seat at the table.

‘I’m not backing out,’ Carl answers calmly, ‘because I know you won’t. And I don’t want someone else watching your back. That’s my job.’

The corner of Daryl’s mouth quirks up.

His brother shoves his shoulder with a soft laugh. Then the smile disappears. ‘If Maggie finds out about this - what you’re going to do? She’s going to do much worse things to you than burn your homework. You know that right?’

‘I don’t have to be scared of Maggie,’ Daryl smiles but then he hesitates. ‘Hope nobody will tell Merle anytime soon though. It won’t matter anyway. Nothing will go wrong.’

‘Right.’ Carl brings his hand to his mouth and bites on his thumb. ‘I didn’t mean... She wouldn’t – like, she wouldn’t-‘

‘Pfft. Of course she wouldn’t,’ Daryl scoffs. ‘And Merle wouldn’t neither. They’ll just scream at me and lock me up in my room forever. That doesn’t matter. We got out last time fine.’

‘Fine? We almost fell to our death from that balcony! Jesus needs to show us how the hell he does that, man, I’m not _just sliding down_ again.’

‘That’s what he does!’

‘Clearly not, because I fell to my fucking doom. My ass still hurts, man.’

‘Serves ya right,’ Daryl smirks. ‘If you’d just told Rick that we fell into that goddamn lake, we wouldn’t have been grounded in the first place.’

Carl rolls his eyes. ‘We should have just snuck out like a normal person. Via the _stairs_.’

‘Pussy.’

‘You let me go first!’

‘Of course, _no way_ that worked but we had to try. It _looks_ like he just slides down, I don’t get it.’

Carl stomps his shoulder. They share a grin. The Grimes boy stretches out on the ledge again, crossing his legs at his ankles and putting his head in his brother’s lap. It’s getting darker and darker around them, the Kingdom disappearing into the night around them and the stars come out to decorate the sky. They don’t resemble any kind of map like they do to the Dixon, but he recognizes animals and objects from tales of old, told around the campfire years ago when they became tentative friends.

Carl sighs and smiles when Daryl’s hand lands on his chest to feel his heartbeat. He looks up at his brother. ‘Do you think it’s weird that we were grounded last week by dad and now we’re representing our communities at a council with a king?’

Daryl frowns. ‘We went swimming, he wouldn’t have grounded us for a _month_. That would have been some bullshit.’

‘No, I mean – just that _we_ are here, calling the shots.’

 ‘New World. Ain’t this what you wanted?’

‘Yeah,’ Carl wriggles around to get comfortable. ‘Just feels weird, is what I’m saying. I think it’s the first thing dad and Michonne fought about, too.’

‘Hmm?’

‘Dad didn’t want me to go. Michonne thought it would be good for us. I don’t know,’ he sighs and closes his eyes. ‘They fought about it. Guess dad caved in the end.’ His eyes open again. ‘We can’t fuck this up, Dare.’

Daryl’s fingers drum on his brother’s heart. ‘We won’t.’

 

 

The footsteps echo through the room and Daryl feels strangely nervous as he watches how Paul inspects the artwork on the walls. The scout has his hair up in a messy bun and he’s wearing a white button up shirt on his dark jeans. The knives glint in the sunlight.

‘This is not your work, right?’ Paul asks curiously as he points up at the paintings.

‘Nah.’

‘Thought so,’ Paul murmurs as he completes his lap. ‘Okay, sit down and I’ll teach you.’

Daryl hops down from his bed and sits on one of the chairs. He holds out his hands.

Paul ties him up.

Daryl smirks.

‘Not a single word,’ Paul laughs. ‘Try to get out.’

The next two hours Daryl spends learning how to break free from all kinds of constraints, whether his hands are tied in front of him or on his back. They work quietly, with Paul explaining the movements and occasionally demonstrating them and Daryl soaking up the knowledge.

‘Good job,’ Paul throws the rope onto the table. ‘We’ll practice again tomorrow morning, to make sure you still remember, but.. yeah, good job, Daryl.’

‘Thanks for teaching me.’

‘Of course.’

Daryl nods and wrings his hands. He glances up through his bangs. ‘You gonna be there, right?’

‘Let me do it,’ Paul says softly. ‘I can take your place, and-‘

‘ _No_. Just – you got me out once. What’s one more time, huh?’

The scout gives him a bittersweet smile. He reaches out and strokes his thumb over the teenager’s cheek, feeling the stubble there. ‘I’ll get you out. And I’ll get you back to Hilltop soon. Merle needs to teach you how to shave.’

‘I thought it looked kinda cool.’

Paul laughs. ‘Those two whiskers? No. Shave.’

Daryl snorts and pushes the man away. ‘Oh fuck you, just because you can go caveman whenever you want, don’t mean-‘

‘Caveman?’

‘You don’t trim that for half a day and you look like a caveman!’

‘You like it.’

‘Well, you like my two whiskers,’ Daryl wiggles his eyebrows to make the other man laugh. He stands up. ‘Seriously though; thanks.’

Paul stands up too and hesitates for a moment. Then he steps forward to give him a tight hug. ‘As I said; you’re welcome. And yes, I’m going to be right there with you.’

 

 

Morgan is just ending the private lesson with Henry when Daryl finds him. It’s still early in the morning and the sunlight is hazy and soft, the wind chilling him to the bone. The Dixon teenager sits down on the ground and watches how the small boy bows to his teacher to show his respect.

Morgan smiles, the skin around his dark eyes wrinkles as he starts the cooling down session. He helps Henry stretch correctly. The boy has grown a lot since Daryl last saw him. The top of his head almost reaches the man’s shoulder now. He’s getting broader, too. Muscles start to form under his thin shirt, but there’s still childishness in the way he giggles when Morgan tickles him briefly. He jumps around on the spot to try and get away from the devilish fingers.

‘Go clean up,’ Morgan laughs as he pushes the blond towards the king’s quarters. ‘Join me for breakfast.’ When the boy runs off, his gaze lands on the teenager. He dips his chin but doesn’t approach him.

Daryl gets up and jumps onto the gazebo. His boots stomp down on the wood. ‘So you really aren’t coming with us?’

The man straightens and looks at the barn where the soldiers are gathering. A couple from Alexandria and the Kingdom’s finest. Carl is sitting on a fence with a sniper rifle slung onto his back and Paul is standing next to Ezekiel.

‘No,’ Morgan says. He looks away. ‘I’m not.’

‘I’m sorry about what happened in the forest. I shouldn’t have done that.’

Morgan nods but doesn’t say anything.

‘Look,’ Daryl sits down on the railing and lets his boots thud against the wood. ‘Ain’t no excuse for that, and I should have apologized sooner, but…’ He wipes his nose on the back of his hand. ‘I’m kinda stubborn, in case you hadn’t caught on yet.’

‘I met someone on the road once,’ Morgan says as he leans against one of the pillars, eyes distant. ‘A man, about your brother’s age. He was with a small group, some women, two couples, kids. Nice guy. Anytime anything would have to get done around the camp? He’d already be doing it.’ His eyes snaps to the teenager. ‘Helpful.’

Daryl eyes him. ‘Okay…’

‘Someone mentioned we were getting low on water and he was already dragging jerry cans to the stream. All clothes were dirty? He was the first to get started on laundry duty. And anytime we had to go on runs, he was in. He never stayed behind. Not once.’

‘Sounds like a good man,’ Daryl says, eyes narrowing suspiciously because he doesn’t understand where Morgan is going with the story.

‘Sounds like it,’ Morgan agrees. ‘His name was Mike. So I asked him; hey Mike, why’re you always being the first? It’s okay to let others do some chores. It’s okay to take a break. And do you know what he says to me? He starts laughing at first. I’m not trying to be helpful, he says to me. I’m trying to die.’

Daryl frowns.

‘He was going on every run, just hoping one day he wouldn’t see that walker coming,’ Morgan points to the left as if there’s one stumbling towards them. ‘He was going down to the streams in the hopes there was one hiding under the surface, ready to drag him under. He was trying to end it on his own terms.’

‘Why not just opt out? Seems like a whole lot of hassle for something real simple.’

‘You think opting out would be simple?’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl swings his feet again. ‘I do. Fucking stupid, but simple.’

‘Fucking stupid,’ Morgan repeats softly, disbelief coloring the words.

‘Of course it’d be fucking stupid. The guy had a group. People were counting on him and he’d just be out there, hoping to be some geek’s snack? Fuck that. You don’t stop trying, not if there’s someone left to keep fighting for. I know what you’re thinking,’ Daryl says. ‘I’m a damn hypocrite, right? I had to give you my goddamn knife to prevent myself from doing the same thing, but _that_ is what you do. You get help.’

‘Did you?’

‘Yes. I know that was some dumb ass metaphor. Hell, there probably never were no damn guy on your road to Alexandria, but I don’t care. Going to this community, this plan? That’s not me being helpful and secretly wanting to opt out.’

Morgan narrows his eyes.

‘It ain’t,’ Daryl promises. ‘I know that you look at me and still see who I was during the war. That you still see me laughing at those Saviors we blew to fucking pieces, and that you saw me later; just coming here to try and kill Negan. I still want him dead, and I won’t ever mourn those saviors. That _doesn’t_ make me a monster.’

 ‘You said the war wasn’t over yet.’

‘For _me_ ,’ Daryl stresses. ‘Because I get a panic attack anytime I see blood even remotely near my family, let alone on their clothes, and I can’t sleep for five hours without waking up screaming. I know I’m fucked up, but I’m working on it. Back at Hilltop? Aaron is teaching me math, and there’s this woman who is teaching me about different kinds of soil? Like – the earth has layers ‘nd shit. Pretty cool stuff. Look – I’m _trying_. I know you don’t believe me but-‘

Morgan straightens. ‘No, I believe you.’

‘But…?’

‘I believe that you are trying,’ Morgan allows, ‘but I doubt you will succeed.’

‘Why’s that?’ Daryl slides off the railing and folds his arms in front of his chest. Behind him, he can hear Carl’s sharp whistle to signal that they’re ready to move out. He whistles back to acknowledge the message.

‘People don’t change,’ Morgan tells him. ‘I thought I had, for a while. After everything happened? I was lost for a long time and someone found me. Tried to help me.’ He looks away for a moment. ‘He died. I tried to hold onto that part, the good part, you know? I tried to see things clearly, but – ‘ he shakes his head. ‘Maybe I was fooling myself all along. This is our world, and it makes people like you. And you don’t change back. You can’t.’

‘You’re wrong.’

Morgan closes his eyes. ‘Thank you for your apology. Good luck on your trip.’

‘When I first came here? You helped me get better. Made sure I had friends, trained with me – that was all for nothing, huh?’

‘Apparently.’

Daryl bites back his anger and rolls his shoulders to ease the tension in them. ‘You’re wrong about me and I’ll prove it.’

Morgan doesn’t answer.

‘You’ll see,’ Daryl says with a curt nod. ‘I really am sorry. Catch you later, Morgan.’

‘Goodbye, Daryl.’

The group is waiting for him. Carl has already mounted his horse, a black stallion who is strong enough to carry them both. He doesn’t want to bring Khamsin, who is easily spooked, and even though she has carried him in and out of battle often enough, he doesn’t want to bring her close to any kind of gunfire.

Paul is riding a mare with a spotted coat. He seems comfortable enough, even when he’s handed the Dixon’s most prized possession for safekeeping. It’s strange to see the crossbow on someone else’s back. Daryl feels vulnerable without it.

It’s made worse when he takes his gun out of his holster and passes it to Carl.

‘I got it,’ his brother stuffs it into his spare holster and then reaches down to pull him up into the saddle behind him. ‘Scoot back a little!’

‘Ain’t no room here, your fat ass is taking up all the space!’

‘It’s not, just sit on the ridge!’

‘Hurts my ass, man!’

Ezekiel clears his throat.

Daryl groans softly and stomps his brother.

Carl needles him with his elbow.

The king shakes his head fondly and looks at the head of his guard. ‘Good luck.’

 

 

Hours later, he regrets everything. There’s sweat dripping down his back, a mixture of his own raging nerves and the steadily rising temperature. Not a sound breaks the silence. It’s unnerving and unnatural. It’s been minutes since he’s heard something and even that had sounded strange. The high office buildings around him bounce the sounds around until he isn’t even sure he’d heard it at all. It makes it hard to orient himself.

He also doesn’t like the fact that he can’t see Carl. He knows his brother is up in one of the office buildings, or possibly on the roof somewhere, but he’s not sure of which one. He knows that some of the Kingdom’s soldiers are in the building down the street, because there’s a smear of paint on a single window. If he squints he might be able to make out his initials but to anyone else they’re just streaks on glass.

He sits and waits.

And waits.

And waits.

His eyebrows shoot up when a bunny hops past.

He jumps up to scare it and grins when it skips away hurriedly.

A small rock lands beside him, obviously meant for his head. So Carl’s in the building right behind him. Good to know. He’s tempted to shout something at him, complaining about his aim maybe, but he holds his tongue and sits down again.

He drinks some water and waits.

And waits.

And waits.

Just when he wants to give up, figuring that they got the times of patrols wrong after all, he can hear hooves clacking in the street. They’ve left their own horses with guards at the edge of the city so Daryl knows who it is.

He takes a deep, calming breath and gets up. His hands shake when he steps onto the road. He feels sick when the hooves stop abruptly.

It’s a young woman on top of a white horse. There are several soldiers around her, all on foot. It’s exactly the same composition as before and Daryl knows they have enough firepower to take them all out in a single burst, should they need it.

The guards freeze when they see him.

Daryl raises his hands in surrender. ‘Hi.’

That seems to confuse them even more.

‘I’m not armed,’ Daryl calls out as he slowly walks forward. ‘Well – there’s a knife on my right hip. Walkers, you know. Geeks?’ He asks when nobody responds. ‘The dead.’

‘ _Xidachane_ ,’ the woman says.

‘Xida – chida – what? What language is that?’ Daryl asks eagerly. He takes another step forwards but halts when the woman smoothly dismounts. The guards are checking the buildings surrounding them, nervous eyes darting around, but she seems calm. There’s a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

‘Mine,’ she says. She can’t be much older than him and wears the same armor as the stranger had done. Leather wrapped around her chest and up one shoulder but hers is honey colored, almost golden against her dark skin. Her natural hair bounces as she confidently strides over to him. ‘Are you alone?’

‘Yes.’

‘Liar.’

‘I have a community,’ Daryl says. ‘It’s far from here. I’m not really allowed to be here,’ he pulls a face. ‘They said the city was overrun in the beginning. That there’s nothing left here.’

‘Liar,’ the woman says again and Daryl never sees the kick coming. He’s struck across his face, driven to the ground but instead of jumping up or scooting away, he just moans quietly and curls up. Shaking fingers search for blood on his cheek. A boot lands between his shoulder blades. She leans on his back before snatching the knife out of his sheath. ‘You’re the one my brother ran into, down south. He said you had a friend with you.’

Daryl pretends to whimper.

The woman straightens and looks at his weapon. She kicks against his shoulder lightly to make him roll over and face her. ‘This is a beautifully crafted weapon.’

‘Our blacksmith made it for me,’ Daryl groans. ‘It was a gift.’

The woman hums and then sinks to one knee, pressing the knife against his throat. ‘Tell me who you are.’

‘My name is Daryl Dixon,’ he says, stretching his neck to try and get away from his own knife. ‘I’m from a community far from here. And you’re right; I’m not alone. My friend, the one your brother saw me with? He’s just outside of the city with our horses. He’s the one who gave me that knife. It means a lot to me, so please don’t lose it.’

‘Looks like you’re the one losing it,’ the woman says.

‘I’m sure you’ll give it back to me,’ Daryl answers. ‘You seem like good people. Our community is looking for people to trade with. I’d like to talk to your leader.’

‘Really?’ One eyebrow quirks up. ‘You’re doing the; take me to your leader thing?’

‘It sounded fucking awesome in my head,’ Daryl laughs. ‘First time doing this, girl, I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing but if you could – you know – _not_ murder me, that’d be great. My – ehm – my mom would be pretty upset.’

Her eyes narrow. ‘You’re lying again.’

Daryl carefully leans onto his elbows. The knife moves with him. ‘Well, she’s not really my mom, but she might as well be. Her name is Maggie, she’s the leader of my community. She has a son, and I have a sister and two other brothers as well. One’s my blood, the other a pain in my butt, but hey – family, right?’

The woman smirks. ‘Right.’

‘Your brother’s name – err. Taio? Ta- erm’

‘It’s Taiwo,’ she says and straightens up. She glances at the soldiers. ‘Spread out. Check the buildings.’

‘Taiwo, right. Yeah. What’s your name?’

‘Amaka,’ she answers as she watches how the soldiers disperse.

‘That’s a beautiful name.’

‘You’re going to tell me I’m pretty next, or what?’

Daryl eyes the knife. ‘No? Yes?’

Amaka looks down at him. ‘You’re – stop laughing,’ she says with disbelief, ‘I have you at knife-point.’

‘Sorry. I’m nervous.’

‘Stop!’ Amaka laughs when he giggles again. ‘How did you find us?’

‘Just looked real hard. We’d already covered most of the country side when we went into the city and bumped into Taiwo. We figured you had to be somewhere in the city. Spotted you a week ago and followed you back. You should really mix up your schedules some – they’re pretty easy to figure out. It’s how I knew you’d be taking this road back.’

‘You talk an awful lot.’

‘Nervous,’ Daryl reminds her. ‘Knife point and all that. It’s not because you’re really pretty. Seems like a weird time to flirt, somehow.’

Amaka smiles at him.

It doesn’t take the soldiers very long to clear the buildings. They return empty handed and with strange looks on their faces when they see the two teenagers smiling at each other.

‘Nothing,’ one of them says. ‘He’s alone.’

‘I doubt that,’ Amaka responds with a sniff. ‘Mason will decide on what to do with him.’

Daryl grins and holds out his hands when the young woman reaches for the rope that’s hanging from her belt. ‘Take me to you leader, Amaka.’

 

 


	20. Washington D.C.

 

* * *

 

 

The rope cuts into his wrists. It’s bound so tightly that there’s no way that he can just twist and turn his right wrist to get out of it. He doesn’t think that Paul could have done it either but he’s learned not to underestimate the scout. Maybe it would have been smarter to send him in instead, but it’s too late to doubt that decision now.

Amaka is holding the other end of the rope. She pulls at it every couple of minutes just to make him stumble. When he glares, she whistles innocently before giggling, only stopping when one of the guards glares at them.

‘What’s your community called?’ Amaka asks curiously as they round a corner. She’s sitting high on her white horse. It’s a good, strong animal but clearly used to work on a farm and not the city or a battlefield. The sounds of the city spook it, metal clanging on metal when the wind blows a door closed, and the growls of walkers frightens it.

‘You first.’

Amaka smirks down at him. ‘Washington D.C.’

Daryl groans. ‘I should have known.’

‘Well, you don’t seem the brightest so it’s okay to ask stupid questions.’

‘Didn’t your momma teach you manners? Treat your guests nicely!’

She tugs at the rope to make him stumble again. ‘What’s your community called?’

‘Wouldn’t you like to know,’ Daryl smirks. ‘Never give information up first if you want to know something. It leaves you with nothing to bribe me with. Is this your first time doing this or-‘

Someone grabs him by the shoulder and hurls him towards the ground. Because his hands are still bound, he lands painfully on his shoulder, head knocking onto concrete. His vision blurs as he looks up at the high buildings surrounding them. They seem to curl inwards, threatening shadows he’s no longer used to, but he shakes his head to clear his vision and tries to find his brother or Paul to show that he’s fine.

He doesn’t get the chance. A man appears in his field of vision, blurry around the edges. Daryl groans when the man grabs his shirt to pull him close. Badly healed stitches mark the man’s cheek. He has dirty blond hair, and eyes the color of dust.

‘You’re going to stop being a little shit, do you hear me?’ the man growls. ‘We don’t have to bribe you. We’re holding your damn life in our hands, so you’re going to answer our questions, or you’re going to die. Those are your fucking options, kid.’ His hold tightens and Daryl can feel his necklace digging into his skin. The man has grabbed it along with the shirt. ‘ _What’s your community called_?’

‘You break that necklace and I’ll break every single bone in your body,’ Daryl promises.

‘Is that right?’

‘Yeah,’ the teenager whispers. ‘And I don’t care if it’s the last thing I’ll do. Break it, and I’ll end you.’

The man whistles. He lets go of the shirt but holds onto the necklace, forcing Daryl’s upper body up to try and relieve some pressure from the chain. It’s not easy to do with his hands bound. ‘Not only a smart-ass, but a tough guy too, huh? What are these? Wedding rings? Are you planning to bring those back to your girlfriend or something? Oh,’ the man laughs. ‘Shit, kid, they were your mommy and daddy’s? Cute.’

Daryl stares at him with narrowed eyes. He wants to lean down and grab the knife that’s strapped to his ankle, hidden in his boot, and bury it between the man’s ribs. Something else that had been his daddy’s. He takes a calming breath instead. ‘Please let go of them.’

‘Oh you have manners this time?’ One bushy eyebrow is raised. ‘Tell us what your community is called.’

Daryl presses his lips together.

‘Leave him be, Logan,’ Amaka says with a roll of her eyes. She’s leaning on her saddle and watches the interaction with mild curiosity. ‘Mason will get him to talk.’

‘Nah, he’ll talk now.’ Logan backhands him hard across the face.

Daryl grunts as he falls back onto the concrete and brings up his bound hands to protect his face from another slap. There’s anger coiling in the pit of his stomach, hatred boiling in his veins. It’s been a long time since someone laid a hand on him. Negan tossing him around some, the claimers pretending to be his friends, his dad teaching him a lesson.

Never again, he’d promised himself.

He raises his hands to give the signal and take them all out.

‘Logan!’ Amaka slides out of her saddle and pushes the man away. ‘Are you out of your mind? Get away from him. You,’ she points at another soldier. ‘Take him back to D.C.’

Logan jerks his arm out of the man’s grip and stalks towards the young woman as she stands in front of her prisoner. ‘Are you really this fucking naïve, Am? You think his friend is waiting outside of the city with their horses? That it’s just the two of them? He’s trying to rob us, kill us!’

‘He’s not,’ Amaka says. She straightens but is still a couple of inches shorter than the man.

Logan laughs bitterly. ‘I _told_ Mason it was a terrible idea to put you in charge of anything. Christ. You’re falling for the first set of blue eyes looking your way? You’re going to get us all killed.’

‘He’s not alone,’ Amaka says as she looks up at the buildings around her. ‘His friends have followed us from the second he stepped out onto the road. It’s strange. They’re all the way up there. They’ve had time to make bridges, place planks and find ways to scale the buildings, so they’ve been spying on us for a long time. Weeks. They prepared for this. They wanted this to happen.’

She looks down at Daryl.

The teenager gathers the blood from his split lip and spits it onto the concrete. ‘I want to talk to Mason. Done told ya.’

‘They’re watching us?’ Logan looks up too. ‘Why-‘

‘Do you have guns?’ Amaka asks Daryl suddenly as her eyes go wide, cutting her friend off. She realizes why they’re able to be so high up.

‘Yeah. Hundreds of ‘em, and before you get smart; even more bullets. You fucking touch me again,’ he snarls, ‘and they’ll light you all up.’

Logan pulls a long hunting knife from his belt and stalks towards him, growling like a cornered animal but one of the soldiers pulls him back.

‘We could have raided your community during the night, we have night vision,’ Daryl says. ‘You don’t have enough soldiers to man every tower, every other one is empty. Or maybe you’re just too fucking lazy to keep your place safe,’ he spats in Logan’s direction before turning back to Amaka. ‘We could have done it. Killed every last one of you, it wouldn’t have been hard.’

‘We know how to protect our people.’ Amaka tilts her chin higher and her hand falls to her weapon.

‘You wouldn’t have made it this far if you didn’t,’ Daryl acknowledges. ‘But swords, spears, bow and arrows against guns? Shooting fish in a goddamn barrel. Maybe you’d been able to take out five of us. Hell – ten. But you all would have died in the end.’

The woman narrows her eyes. ‘What do you want?’

‘To trade. Food and resource and knowledge. We have weapons and know how to make ammunition, and we’re setting up a farm. It’s going good. We have apples and vegetables, grain, too. Livestock. Not a lot, but enough.’

‘Sounds like you already have everything you need.’

‘One storm,’ Daryl says. ‘One bad harvest and it could all be over. All of it. Please. You have to take me to this Mason guy, let me talk to him. And you’re right; we have been spying on you, but I stepped out onto that road, unarmed, because I know you’re good people. I _know_ it. Please, Amaka. You have to give me a chance or this will end badly.’

‘You can’t plead and threaten me in the same sentence,’ Amaka points out. ‘That’s not how that works. Sit up, let me see your lip.’

‘I’m fine,’ Daryl grunts as he sits up but the girl kneels down before him anyway. He flinches when she reaches out for his chin. ‘Sorry, just –‘

‘ _I know you’re good people_ ,’ Amaka repeats softly. ‘You don’t believe any of that. You’re bad at lying and worse at playing this innocent clumsy funny guy act.’

‘I don’t know you,’ Daryl whispers back. ‘And your friend just backhanded me into tomorrow, and he’s pretty keen on doing it again but with a goddamn hunting knife this time. The hell do you expect?’ He works his jaw. ‘Your brother could have killed me and he didn’t, ‘cause your policy changed, right? Well, mine did too recently. We got to make this work. I don’t want to hurt anyone.’

The other teenager glares at him and grabs hold of his chin, jerking him closer and inspecting his lip. ‘You could have just left us alone. You _should_ have.’ After a second, she lets get and wipes her fingertips on his jeans. ‘It’ll heal in time.’ Her hands are close to his lap, where his own are resting. Fingers tug at the binds hidden between their bodies. ‘Not everyone likes following the new rules.’

Daryl looks down. He can twist his wrist and get out of his constraints now.

‘If you signal your people, I’ll make sure you die, too. One way or another,’ the woman promises him.

‘I won’t,’ Daryl promises. He holds his hands out to her. ‘Help me up, please.’

She does.

It even feels strange to have her skin touch his. He’s a tactile person when it comes to his family. He loves to seek out Merle’s rough hugs, Maggie’s soothing kisses to his temple and never misses an opportunity to sling his arm around Carl or Beth’s shoulders. Tara tugging at his hair teasingly ends in giggles and Michone is still on a mission to rub his face clean every time she sees him covered in mud or blood spatters from his hunts.

He doesn’t like it when someone else initiates contact though. Dante knocking their shoulders together has him slinking out of the stables and he hates it when Harlan needs to have a look at his wounds, fingers probing his skin until he snarls.

Amaka lets go of him the second he’s on his feet.

He knows the feeling exactly.

She pretends to wipe her hands on her jeans with a disgusted look and then walks back to her horse, swinging herself back into the saddle. For a second, she looks up at the buildings surrounding them before focusing on the road again.

She clacks her tongue and the soldiers start moving.

Daryl watches and then glances up, too.

Someone appears on the ledge of the highest building. They tip their sheriff’s hat.

Daryl nods and then nearly falls flat on his face when Amaka pulls on the rope again. He can almost hear Carl’s laughter.

 

 

The gates of Washington D.C. are impressive. Incredibly tall metal structures that shine in the sunlight. None of their scouts had been able to figure out how they work. They seem too tall and heavy to manually open like they do at Alexandria and Hilltop, and there aren’t any wheels supporting it, so it’s not like the Kingdom’s Western gate either. The two halves just slide apart soundlessly without any of the guards breaking a sweat over it.

It must be a motorized system, Daryl thinks as he tries to catch a look of them when they pass through the gate, but he can’t hear any engines. Logan shoves his shoulder painfully to keep him moving. He tries to crane his neck and catch a glimpse anyway but the man hits him across the back of his head.

His baseball cap falls off.

Daryl stops dead in his tracks. ‘I need that back. Right now.’

Amaka looks back and lifts an unimpressed eyebrow. ‘It’s just a hat,’ she says before looping the rope around the horn of her saddle. The horse barely notices that it’s now dragging a teenager along. One of their guards runs off on Amaka’s order to go find Mason. There are people looking up curiously from their work. When they see the stranger being dragged through the streets by their guards, the whispers start.

Children follow them, hooting and shouting before being railed in by their parents and guardians. People come out of their houses to see what all that noise is about. Daryl tries to count the children but loses track of all of them. There are teenagers climbing up on a shack to get a better look, some older and some younger than him. There are quick footsteps on fire steps but he only catches flashes of people. Nobody carries a gun.

He spots plenty of knives and several bigger swords. There are spears and quivers clipped to belts and backs, but most have just been grabbed from storage units near the houses. They aren’t usually armed inside their community, Daryl notes.

Amaka jumps of her horse and lets someone else lead it away. She holds onto the rope but it dangles between them as she walks closer to Daryl. The people around her seem nervous at the sight of the stranger among them.

‘Don’t try to get smart with Mason,’ she says, ‘and I’ll get your cap back for you.’

‘That’s blackmail.’

‘What do you think _you_ are doing? You’ve got guns pointed at our heads!’

‘I’m not saying I’m not blackmailing you – just – blackmailing is bad. We shouldn’t do that.’ Daryl laughs as she jabs him between the ribs with her elbow. ‘Stop, or everyone will think they’ll get a go at me. Jees, how many kids are here? Do you have vaccines? For, like – I dunno. Just their shots?’

‘ _Maybe_.’ She draws the word out. ‘Do you all have kids?’

‘Not that many,’ Daryl admits, ‘but I have a baby brother. He’s gonna need his shots.’

Amaka hums and looks away. ‘Sounds like you want it really bad, huh? What’s that knife worth to you?’

‘You have their shots?’ Daryl asks eagerly. ‘You have medicine and all that? Fuck that knife, I’ll trade it for-‘

‘We have _some_ shots, and we have _some_ medicine, and it’s going to cost you more than your stupid knife,’ Amaka says. ‘Jees,’ she tries to imitate his accent, ‘is this your first time doing this or something? Oh my God.’

‘Good lord,’ Daryl corrects with a smirk, ‘I say; good lord, not _oh my god._ ’

‘Are you always such an idiot?’

‘People tell me I’m cute when I’m sleeping.’

‘That’s not what I asked!’ She laughs. ‘Oh my God! You really are a brainless aren’t you?’ Her gaze is drawn up and she falls silent when the sea of people parts for two men and a woman. It’s not hard to see who which one of them is Mason. With his height and broad build he has just as a commanding presence as Negan had, but the people relax fractionally when they see him instead of tensing up. The friendly smile reminds Daryl of Ezekiel, though the expression sours when his eye falls onto the two teenagers.

‘Kneel,’ Amaka hisses.

Daryl falls to his knees with his hands still bound. A sour taste gathers inside his mouth, mixing with the blood there. The last time he’d knelt for someone, he’d almost lost himself completely, and while he understands, he feels sick anyway. He lets his fingernails dig into the palm of his hand.

‘Amaka,’ the man says when he stops a couple of feet in front of them. ‘I told you not to look for the strangers anymore.’

‘He found us, sir. We weren’t looking for them.’

Mason has no trouble detecting the lie. There’s disapproval in the way the corners of his mouth turn downwards. He tilts his chin higher.

Amaka’s shoulders slump. ‘I’m sorry, sir. But Taiwo was right! He’s from a community and they want to-‘

‘And you’ve brought him back here,’ Mason cuts in sharply. ‘He’s from a community and you have brought him here.’

‘You said it was time to reach out to others! We can’t just stay here and hide and never-‘

‘You brought him _here_!’ Mason thunders.

Daryl glares up at him before glancing at Amaka, who seems to hold her ground just fine. She didn’t flinch at the raised voice, nor did her hand curl around the sharp blade on her hip. She’s not scared at all. Instead, she looks ashamed. Eyes on the ground before them and shoulders curling in further to appear smaller than she is.

‘I know what I said,’ Mason continues, his voice softer now. ‘It _is_ time, but it needs to be on our terms, Amaka. If you’d listened to everything I said, you would have known that a building has been secured on the south side. We could have brought him there, without putting everyone here at risk.’

Amaka shifts her weight. ‘They would have found us eventually then anyway.’

‘ _We_ would have had the advantage,’ Mason says. He steps closer to her. ‘I know you want to realize your father’s dreams, but we can’t lose sight of our reality _now_. Others came and we paid the price. Just because he didn’t kill Taiwo, doesn’t mean he won’t come for us now. We will discuss our next step somewhere else,’ he glances at the people surrounding them and then down at Daryl. ‘Lock him up.’

‘My name is Daryl Dixon,’ the teenager says loudly so everyone can hear. Mason freezes just as he wants to turn away from them. ‘I’m from a community that looks a lot like this one. Ours is a couple of days from here, out in the country side. We have cattle and a working farm, a blacksmith – a lot of people with a lot of skills.’

Mason turns back to look at him. A deep frown mars his face.

‘In fact – it’s not just us!’ Daryl says quickly. ‘There are _four_ communities out there, and we’re working together. We trade. One has the best horses in all the land, and plenty of fruit. Another has weapons. Guns! We can make ammunition. And-‘

‘Stop.’

Daryl falls silent for a moment and looks up at the man. ‘You don’t believe me.’

‘No. I don’t,’ Mason says calmly. ‘We’re inside Washington, where the last defenses fell. Plenty of guns. Plenty of bullets, but it’s been years now. We’ve found other means of defending ourselves. The times of guns is over, young man. Stop trying to frighten us with ghosts from the past.’ He shakes his head and then turns to leave.

Daryl twists his wrists and the bounds slide off. He stands up. ‘I’m not trying to frighten you. And I’m not a liar.’ He raises his left hand.

Mason turns around to see a single red dot on the ground between them. He backs away instinctively but then sneers. ‘A single scope? A party trick. Am I supposed to believe you now? Whoever is up there, they won’t last long. There are guards in the other towers.’

‘It doesn’t have to be this way,’ Daryl says. He favors his left foot so he can pull his right up quickly to grab the knife hidden inside his boot. ‘We didn’t come here to frighten you, or rob you, or kill you. You seem like good people. We want to trade. We want to rebuild this world!’

‘We’ve heard stories about the communities out there. We don’t want to have anything to do with them.’

Daryl frowns.

‘Mason, please,’ Amaka steps forward. ‘Just listen to him!’

‘No.’

Daryl sets his jaw and snaps his fingers.

A single gunshot rings out. The bullet slams into the ground at his feet, right where the red dot had been. The dot moves, flickering as Carl lifts the gun up, and comes to rest on the side of Amaka’s head.

Daryl freezes. His frightened gaze meet Mason’s. ‘Please,’ he begs. ‘ _Please_.’

 

 

Ropes are thrown down and Carl is the first one to land inside the strange community. Most of the people of Washington have been send back inside their houses for their safety. It’s the least Mason could do and Daryl had allowed it. The power has shifted between them, the teenager no longer on his knees and now meeting his brother half-way.

‘You okay?’ Carl hugs him tightly, whispering in his ear.

‘Fine,’ the Dixon nods though he feels better when his own gun slides back into the holster on his thigh. ‘Thank you.’

‘I got you,’ Carl grins. ‘Who’s the girl?’

Daryl glares at him.

Carl wiggles his eyebrows and then sniggers, like they’re not inside enemy territory, surrounded and outnumbered. He turns back to the wall to see Paul slide down the rope, landing on his feet with a heavy thud and a slight grimace of pain. ‘Jesus, come with us, erm-‘ he points at a woman from the Kingdom.

‘Monica,’ Daryl supplies.

‘Monica, right, sorry ma’am,’ Carl nods, ‘could you come, too? The rest, stay here. We don’t want to intimidate them. This way we’ll have one person from each community, and Daryl. Good plan?’ he asks Paul.

‘Good plan,’ Paul agrees. He glances at Mason, who has gathered three more people to stand with him and is eyeing them nervously. ‘Just stay calm. They didn’t exactly invite us in.’

‘We didn’t invite you in either,’ Monica reminds the scout, ‘but it worked out anyway. Let’s go. The longer we wait, the more nervous they get.’

‘Here,’ Paul says as they walk over to Mason. He holds out Daryl’s crossbow, watches how the teenager easily throws it onto his back and then puts a hand on his shoulder. ‘You’re doing great, Daryl.’

‘We’re not there yet,’ the Dixon says with a shake of his head. ‘They don’t want to have anything to do with us. The girl, her name is Amaka – I think she wants the same as Carl.’

‘As _us_ ,’ Paul corrects softly, squeezing his shoulder.

Daryl brings one hand up and gnaws on his nail. ‘Yeah. Right. Of course.’ He takes a deep breath. ‘Okay, let’s go. Hand off your gun, brother,’ he says as he passes Carl and leads them over to the leader of Washington D.C.

Mason is quietly fuming. He glares at the guns and nervously shifts his weight, eyes darting to the soldiers back at the gate and then to the four representatives.

‘Once again; my name is Daryl Dixon,’ he puts a hand over his heart and then gestures to his right, ‘this is Monica, from the Kingdom. It’s the community closest to yours. That’s Paul Rovia, but everyone calls him Jesus. And this,’ his hand lands on the shoulder of his friend, ‘is my younger brother, Carl Grimes.’

‘ _Younger_?’ Carl sounds outraged. ‘I’m _at least_ three months older than you!’

‘No way,’ Daryl scoffs. ‘I’m a year older.’

‘That is such bullshit, oh my God,’ Carl moans, rolling his one eye up to the heavens.

Out of the corner of his eye, Daryl can see how the woman behind Mason hides her smile by looking away. She catches the eye of the other guard, and the man chuckles softly, shaking his head at the two teenagers.

Mason shoots Paul a look. ‘You live at their community?’

‘I live with Daryl at Hilltop Colony, yes,’ Paul smiles. ‘Carl lives at Alexandria. It’s nearby, so-’ He falls silent when he sees how the gazes snap to Carl, how hands fall onto knives and swords, and the guards take a step backwards to draw them safely. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘ _Alexandria_?’ Mason repeats. At Carl’s wary nod, he tilts his chin higher before turning around and heading inside one low building. ‘We should talk inside.’

Daryl glances at Carl. They both hesitate but then follow the man.

The building used to be some kind of kindergarten. The doorposts are still brightly colored even if the drawings have been taken down. Long corridors with little hooks to hang coats and backpacks on, classrooms where small tables and chairs are stacked on top of each other to make room. The biggest one seems to serve as a conference room, much like the one they have at Hilltop Colony. One massive table and lots of chairs.

Mason sits down on the left side, in the middle. Carl takes the seat across from him with Daryl at his right hand. Monica on his left. Daryl is glad that Paul sits down next to him.

Mason looks wary. He watches how the door is closed by one of his guards and then looks at Daryl. ‘What do you want?’

‘We want to trade. Goods,’ Daryl explains, ‘and services, but also information. Knowledge. The Kingdom has a great medical cent-‘

‘We have no need of that.’

Daryl shifts in his seat. ‘Okay…. If you have a medical center, maybe that could be your… thing. Err… Like- what you’re good at. The Kingdom has great farms, the best horses, and Oceanside is a fishing community. They make-‘

‘We have enough food to feed our community,’ Mason cuts in. ‘And we don’t need any horses.’ He runs a hand over the side of his face and glances at Carl. ‘Tell me what you really want.’

Carl narrows his eye. ‘What do you mean? You heard what Daryl said. If you don’t want to trade goods or services, we could trade information. Whether a herd is coming, or others, from outside and-‘

‘ _You_ are from the outside.’

‘And you didn’t see us coming,’ Daryl snaps.

Paul shifts closer to him.

Daryl takes a deep breath. ‘We could help each other. We’re building a new world out there. It’s going to need all of us. If we want to survive all this, we _have_ to stick together.’

Mason leans back in his chair. ‘And what if we say no? What happens then? You drag our people out into the square and start the countdown? One by one until we cave? Or will you drag them to the gates and bind them to a pole? Light them on fire and record their screams, play it inside our homes until we say yes, or go insane?’

Daryl’s hands are shaking. It’s hard to swallow suddenly. He tries to breathe normally but sweat is gathering between his shoulder blades and soaking his flannel shirt. Words get stuck in his throat.

‘That wasn’t us,’ Carl says with a frown. ‘Who told you about those things?’

‘Oh we know,’ one of the guards sneers. ‘I’ve been out there, beyond our walls, beyond our borders even. In the wild. And I’ve met…’ he searches for the word, ‘people. _Ibidi_ people,’ he adds with an urgent whisper as he leans forward. He seems to be just as old as Mason. Dark eyes and darker skin, flashing white teeth when he speaks. ‘ _Crazy_ people. They bring stories about a place in the wild. They told us they used to live in a sanctuary until the monsters came. There was a woman. She told us you burned people alive. That you kept tapes of it, kept playing it over and over on the speakers. That you kept people in cages, treated them like dogs!’

Daryl closes his eyes and tries to breathe through his nose.

‘That wasn’t us!’ Carl insists.

Mason watches them silently. His gaze comes to rest on the youngest Dixon. His brow furrows.

The guard sneers. ‘Weren’t you? Weren’t you who came in the night and burned a whole community to the ground? We could see the smoke rise for days, but only later we heard that it weren’t just the houses. It hadn’t been just the church, right? People on pyres,’ he says darkly. ‘We know it.’

‘It was Alexandria that burned, you fucking asshole! Those people were _our_ people, that was Er-‘

Daryl shoves himself away from the table and tugs at the collar of his shirt. He gags, his ears are ringing as panic soars. There’s sweat dripping down his spine, soaking his hair at the temples. He stumbles and falls against the wall with one shoulder. He can smell the fire. He can hear Eric’s dying screams.

‘Daryl!’

‘Dare!’

Both Paul and Carl jump up but only his brother darts forward to grab him by the shoulders.

‘Err -  you’re safe,’ Carl says, ‘I’m right here. You’re safe, brother. It’s over, remember? Listen to me, _look_ at me! Shit. Dare, listen to me!’

Paul seems to hesitate, unsure of what to do. ‘What’s going on? Daryl? What’s wrong?’

‘He’s having a panic attack,’ Mason says calmly as he stands up. ‘Stop touching him. Give him some space.’

‘Beth said to talk to him,’ Carl objects. He digs his fingers into Daryl’s shoulders. ‘Hey, it’s me, Dare. Focus on me.’

‘Let go of him,’ Mason orders as he rounds the table. He grabs Carl’s arm and forces him backwards. ‘Daryl? Sit down. Just slide to the ground – that’s it. Carl, sit down, too. Try to get him to breathe with you. Don’t touch him, don’t make him do anything else. Just breathe, Daryl. Nice and easy.’

‘Yeah,’ Carl falls to his knees. It must hurt but he doesn’t flinch. ‘Deep breath. I’m right here with you. It’s okay. Everything will be okay.’

At the table, the guard looks shamefaced. He pushes himself away from the table and opens the door. ‘Amaka, stop listening at the door, go grab some water. Now. Filtered and cool, hurry.’

Mason sighs as he steps back to give the Dixon space. He looks at Paul. ‘We have children here – teenagers and younger. The younger ones have seemingly forgotten, too young to remember, but the teenagers.’ He shakes his head. ‘Nightmares. Trauma. Some would refuse to speak, too scared to make a sound. Other had flashbacks, volatile emotions, some would start wetting their beds again at fourteen. Our future,’ he says softly as he looks at the two teenagers on the ground, breathing in sync.

‘He’s seen terrible things,’ Paul says as he gestures that Mason should sit back down at the table. The scout switches seats to sit across from him. ‘The stories people told you – that’s not what happened. Parts of it, maybe, but not the whole story.’

‘Give me the whole story then,’ Mason says. ‘Don’t leave anything out.’

Paul doesn’t.

Daryl sits on the floor and tries to breathe normally. After a couple of minutes, he can do it without Carl’s gentle reminders. His mind settles and his heart stops trying to break his own chest. His hands still shake but he closes his eyes and tips his head back.

He listens to his own story.

About that truck that is now at the bottom of a lake and two communities meeting. The deal made to survive. The outpost. The line-up. The teenager made to eat dogfood and the communities on their knees. The Kingdom with its roaring symbol. Escape and safety and then all out war.

It almost sounds like it happened to somebody else. That it wasn’t his dad beaten to death, or him in that cellar, naked and being tortured. He can almost pretend that it happened to a stupid boy with the same name, one so eager to fight even after he saw his own people being burned to death.

Someone hands him a glass of water.

He drinks it because Carl keeps mimicking that he should take a sip. It’s cold.

After another minute, Monica now telling about the outposts and their surprise attacks, his brother returns to the table to tell how the war finally ended.

Four of them in that clearing, with the devil on his knees, begging for the end he wouldn’t get.

Now that the panic has ebbed away, shame starts to make Daryl uneasy. The war is over. They’ve buried charred bones and placed flowers on every grave. It’s over.

He slowly gets up. He’s so tired now that his legs shake while he walks to the table and sits down again. Sweaty strands of hair hide most his expression. It all still feels alien as Carl tells them about the New World. The communities working together, Alexandria’s rebuilding and the birth of Maggie’s child.

‘Hershel Junior,’ Daryl mutters as he rubs his fingertips over the wood of the table.

‘His baby brother, my nephew,’ Carl beams.

‘I thought you were brothers,’ Mason says with a frown.

‘Well, yeah. We are, but Maggie is his…. Maggie. Like, she’s his… guardian?’

Daryl brings his hand up to gnaw on his fingernail. ‘Mom.’

Carl’s eyebrows shoot up but he grins, ‘yeah, so – we’re brothers, but Maggie’s my aunt – but not really. And Maggie’s sister is our sister, too. But my dad isn’t Daryl’s dad, but Daryl is still kinda his son, so…’ he draws the last word out.

Mason smiles at him. ‘It sounds complicated.’

Both teenagers shrug. ‘Makes sense to us.’

Mason glances at the woman to his right and smiles before turning back to Carl. ‘I’m not promising anything yet. I have to discuss this with my community. We haven’t had dealings with any outside communities for at least a year now, and the last ones…’ he shake his head.

‘We understand,’ Carl nods. ‘Talk about it with your people. We can meet at the edge of the city tomorrow and-‘

‘Stay,’ Mason says as he stands up. ‘The four of you. If you would like to trade, you will need to know what we have to offer. I will talk to my community first. A room will be made available for you. Water and food will be provided, but send your soldiers away.’ He holds out his hand. ‘A sign of good faith, no?’

 

 

‘There’s something I don’t get,’ Carl says as he skips forward to walk next to Daryl and Amaka. She’d leading them to one of the row houses that is empty. ‘Your community is big, right? And yet, we’ve only seen one group of soldiers outside the walls. One. Yours.’

‘I bet you did,’ Amaka says.

‘It doesn’t make sense. Not all your towers are occupied, you hardly go outside, I don’t see that many people here. And one of those houses is _empty_?’

‘Maybe it’s just a bad house. Rotting floor boards,’ she shrugs. ‘Evil spirits.’

‘Yeah right,’ Carl scoffs and then blinks when she looks at him quizzically. ‘You believe in evil spirits?’

‘The dead didn’t stand up on their own volition,’ Amaka says. ‘Something is behind this.’

‘Yeah. A virus,’ Carl laughs. ‘Or a disease – something like that. Not – not evil spirits.’

‘Can you prove that?’

‘Can you prove that evil spirits did this?’

‘No,’ Amaka allows, ‘so it could be a virus, or it could be an evil spirit. But yes, I believe.’

Carl leans back and tries to get Daryl’s attention, rolling his eyes and-

Amaka reaches out, grabs his ear and twists until the Grimes boy yelps.

Paul and Monica, who are walking behind them, laugh.

‘’s what you get for being a little shit,’ Daryl smirks at his brother.

Carl rubs over his ear. ‘That doesn’t answer my question though. Where is everyone?’

Amaka shrugs and crosses the street. She glances at a stalled car a little ways down the road. ‘Not everyone likes the outside,’ she mumbles.

Daryl follows her gaze. A couple of young men are sitting on top of the car. It’s easy to spot Taiwo. He’s sitting on the hood, leaning back against a cracked windshield. The dao is resting on his bend knees and dark eyes follow his sister until the gaze suddenly snaps to him.

One of his friends leans down to whisper something in his ear.

Taiwo smirks.

Daryl stops walking and narrows his eyes.

‘I see you got out safely,’ Taiwo calls out. ‘Xidachane didn’t get you?’

‘Not yet,’ Daryl answers. ‘Did Mason take your balls for being outside your dumb-ass gates?’

‘Not yet,’ Taiwo echoes with a grin.

‘Don’t mind him.’ Amaka rolls her eyes and ushers them onto the small set of steps and into the house.

‘Oh, Dare’s not minding nothing,’ Carl sniggers. ‘Step up your game, Jesus. You’ve got some competition. Wipe that drool of your chi-’

Daryl freezes and then shoves Carl into a wall. ‘You shut the fuck up about that,’ he hisses because his own brother almost tried to kill him over it, and he doesn’t know these people.

Amaka however, just cocks her head to the side. Her smirk is identical to her brother’s. ‘What did you say, Carl?’

‘Nothing, nothing,’ Carl mutters as he pushes his brother off of him.

Amaka glances at Daryl, who refuses to look at her. ‘ _Right_.’ She draws the word out. ‘Come on then, I’ll help you get settled.’

 

 

Hours later, Daryl is sitting in a dark hallway with his back against the wall. There’s a loaded gun in his hand.

The house is quiet.

Paul, Carl and Monica are asleep in the kitchen, the least likely place for them to be at.

Daryl raises the gun and looks at the doorknob.

He puts his finger on the trigger.

And waits all night for the door to open.

 

 

 


	21. Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to Syra. Instead of a coffee, I extended my Spotify account with your contribution and danced while writing.  
> Dotan – Let the River in, play it as loud as you can stand.
> 
> Thank you so much.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Paul finds him the next morning. The man appears in the doorway without his long coat on, sleeves of his white shirt rolled up and hair mussed from sleep. There’s wariness in his posture as he slouches against the doorpost. Sadness makes his blue eyes dark. His hands disappear into the pockets of his jeans. It causes his shoulders to slump.

‘Did you sleep at all?’

Daryl shakes his head. He’s still staring at the doorknob. His elbows are now resting on his bend knees, the gun dangling down because his wrists started to cramp during the night. His eyes burn. His back, butt and neck hurt from sitting in the same position for hours and hours.

‘We’d agreed we wouldn’t have to stand guard.’

‘Changed my mind,’ Daryl says softly. Light is now filtering through the blinds. He can start to differentiate the colors on the doorknob again. Gunmetal gray, flecks of brown and black, a speck of white paint someone hadn’t bothered to wipe off years ago. He wonders whether the marks left on the knob were made by wedding bands. The same hands opening and closing it, leaving scratches on the surface.

He’s had a long time to think about that one doorknob. If he returns to Hilltop, he will be able to draw it in his sketchbook from memory. Every mark in place.

‘Please put your gun in your holster.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘I just can’t.’

Paul doesn’t answer. He pushes himself away from the doorpost and disappears into the house again. For a moment, Daryl wonders whether he’s going to get Carl to see if his brother can talk some sense into him. It’s not that he doesn’t want to put the gun away, but he can’t. He keeps imagining the knob turning and someone sneaking in with a glinting knife or sharp sword. And he led them here. He told them they were good people, he’d insisted this was good plan.

The New World might have not been his idea, or what he wants, but it’s what he fought for at Ezekiel’s council all the same. The lives of Monica, Paul and Carl are in his hands. That’s what it feels like, at least. They’re all great fighters, Carl a sharper shot than him with any gun, and Monica one of Ezekiel’s best and Paul quick and clever as a fox, but it only takes one second.

They’re never safe. No matter what he thinks, no matter what he feels. They are not safe.

That message keeps playing in his head. Carl whispering it to him in the dark after learning it from his father, haunting him through the night.

Carl is nowhere to be seen when Paul steps back into the hallway however. The scout sits down next to the teenager. He opens the canister he’s holding and pours water into a cup. ‘Here. Drink this.’

‘Ain’t thirsty.’

‘Daryl, please.’

‘Don’t.’

Paul sighs. He puts the cup down between them so Daryl can grab it, should he change his mind. Together, they listen to the strange sounds of the house. The woodwork settles and groans, and the wind howls through a crack in a window upstairs. ‘I’m sorry that I didn’t know how to help during your panic attack,’ the scout says. ‘And I’m not sure what to do now either.’

‘You were helpin’ by not makin’ a big fucking deal out of it. Try to keep that going and shut up about it,’ Daryl mutters.

Paul reaches out and carefully puts his hand over Daryl’s. He nudges the cold finger from the trigger of the gun and then guides the weapon back to the holster. It slips in. He doesn’t let go, just entwines their fingers to warm Daryl’s.

Daryl finally closes his eyes. He sighs.

‘Do you want to talk about something else?’

‘Like what?’

‘Like, about what Carl said?’

Daryl frowns and slowly opens his eyes again. ‘He doesn’t know about you, and…’ He squeezes Paul’s hand. ‘Why we’re weird, I guess. He still thinks it’s just me.’

Paul smiles, ‘that’s not what I meant. I meant the fact that he said it in front of Amaka. It made you mad.’ The scout leans forward to catch his friend’s eye. ‘He didn’t mean to put you on the spot, or to… expose you. He’s just used to not caring about such things.’

‘’cause it ain’t nothing to him, right? Ain’t him running for his goddamn life if anyone finds out.’ Daryl rubs his thumb over the soft webbing between Paul’s thumb and index finger. ‘I know he didn’t _mean_ to, but he _did_. And yeah, I got mad. He needed to know I weren’t joking.’

‘He knows that.’

‘Then we’re cool. And he knows that, too. He’s been my brother since Atlanta,’ Daryl says with a little smile. ‘You don’t have to step in, we know how to fight and make up. It’s been like that since the start. He does something and keeps doing it until I flash some teeth. Ain’t always fair to him,’ Daryl admits, ‘but even Shane couldn’t beat that out of me completely. _Use your words_. Pfff.’ He laughs softly.

‘You’ve gotten better at it. I didn’t know you then, of course, but even in the time I have known you; you’ve gotten better at it.’

Daryl leans his head back, staring at the doorknob again. ‘Wouldn’t want to let him down.’

Paul squeezes his hand tightly.  He stretches out one leg. ‘I think you were right about these people. They’re good people.’

‘Just because we woke up today?’

‘Partly, yes. It’s always a gamble. You can never be sure, no matter how long you’ve spied on them beforehand. I’m glad it worked out.’

‘Me too,’ Daryl drops the scout’s hand to grab the glass of water and take a swallow. ‘Imagine you having to go back to Hilltop to tell Maggie ‘nd Merle I got myself killed.’

‘Don’t joke about that.’

‘ _Paul Rovia_ finally pissing his pants over something?’

Paul knocks their shoulders together and laughs.

They talk softly while the sun rises. About how Daryl forgot his cigarettes, until Paul fishes them out of the pocket of his jeans with a sly grin and fake excuse about how he was just trying to help the teenager quit those things. About how someone at Hilltop is trying to make moonshine and Merle had confiscated the first batch, only to find out the guy hadn’t known what he was doing and spit it all out again. About the sheep Enid has named after every color of the rainbow and pretends to know which is which. About that time Paul had seen a documentary about the meat industry and had become vegetarian until his spirit broke one dark night and he walked five miles in the rain towards the nearest fast food joint to get a burger.

In the end, Daryl never even sees the doorknob turn. Paul’s hand shoots out to cover Daryl’s gun so the teenager can’t draw it in time with the door opening.

Amaka’s eyes grow wide as she sees them sitting in the hallway, but she smiles when no gun is aimed at her forehead. ‘Good morning. Mason is waiting for you all with breakfast, so if you could come with me?’

‘I’ll go get Carl ‘nd Monica,’ Daryl mumbles as he gets up and stumbles out of the room. His muscles are stiff from sitting in the same position all night. He stretches while his brother and Monica wake up.

As they walk to the front door, Carl puts his hand on his brother’s shoulder and squeezes. ‘You okay?’

‘Fine,’ Daryl nods. ‘Just tired. Didn’t really sleep.’

‘We can rest easy tonight,’ Carl promises, ‘back at the Kingdom. Safe and sound.’

They step into the light of day with matching smiles.

 

 

There’s something wrong about this community, Daryl thinks as they walk through the streets. Carl had been right. None of this makes any sense.

The towers have been abandoned. There’s not a single guard walking the wall or manning a post. No glint of spears in the sunshine, no shadows shifting to get a better look at the walkers who are scratching at the high walls.

There’s nobody on the streets either. No children running around to catch a glimpse of them, no teenagers lounging on the fire escapes of the low apartment complexes. Some of the doors of the buildings are open, a few are hanging of the hinges.

If Daryl didn’t know any better, he’d think this place had been abandoned a long time ago.

‘Where is everybody?’ Monica asks.

Amaka shrugs. ‘This way, please.’

They turn right, to a street that appears to have a dead end. Walls have been rigged up to create a funnel that leads to a single building at the end of the street. It was partly made out of glass, but those walls have been replaced by tough sheets of metal. It’s quite a large building, with a big open space and then-

‘You’re kidding me,’ Paul breathes. ‘That’s what you meant by – you said some people don’t like the outside.’

‘Yeah,’ Amaka smiles.

‘Oh,’ Monica says as she looks at the building. A frown starts to form, ‘but how?’

‘You’ll see.’

‘Wait,’ Carl says as he stops in his tracks. ‘I don’t understand. What’s going on?’

Daryl steps into the building. It’s bare. In one corner there used to be small offices with glass separating the employees from customers. There’s a row of broken down machines in another corner and televisions with cracked screens dangle from the ceiling. There are marks on the ground where more machines would have been, the remains of a banister and something else.

He walks deeper into the building and is suddenly standing at the foot of the tallest staircase he’s ever seen. It leads down, down, down. Metal steps that used to run smoothly but are now fixed in their places.

‘It’s a metro station,’ Paul explains. ‘You used to buy your tickets here, or scan your card, and then you’d go down to catch a train.’

‘I remember,’ Daryl says softly because Merle had once dragged him to Atlanta to meet up with one of his friends during the holidays. Merle had bitched about how he wasn’t going to pay for parking, so they’d left the pick-up on the outskirts of the city and took the metro to the guy’s neighborhood. He remembers staring out of the window and not seeing anything but walls flashing by and then darkness. He remembers that it had been cold and fast, and filled with all kinds of people. Guys with golden chains around their necks and guys with pressed suits, women with small dogs on their laps, reapplying their lipstick and women nearly falling asleep after their long shifts. Teenagers with skateboards in their hands, headphones covering their ears. Young children lifting themselves to their tip-toes to be able to press the button to open the doors.

He doesn’t doubt that Merle had taken the metro just so he could see all that. He never paid for parking and shredded every ticket he ever got.

‘You _live_ down there?’ Carl asks. There’s horror in his voice as he stares into the darkness.

‘Yeah!’ Amaka starts down the metal staircase. Her voice echoes in the tunnel. ‘Come on!’

Paul is the first to follow her. Due to his dark coat and jeans, he’s almost immediately swallowed by the darkness. Daryl quickly jumps after him, sliding down a couple of steps to catch up with his friend, not wanting to lose sight of him.

Paul glances over his shoulder and shoots him a small smile.

Daryl answers it nervously. He relaxes fractionally when Carl jumps down next to him, cursing softly for missing a step and reaching out to touch his shoulder again, securing himself that his brother is right there with him.

It takes his eyes a couple of seconds to get used to the darkness. They slowly descend, boots clanging on the metal steps. When they’re about half-way down, they can see the end of the staircase and what lies beyond.

Instead of a corridor or a platform, there are large metal doors blocking their path.

Amaka whistles sharply. The sound causes Carl to wince but the sound is drowned out by the opening of the doors. They fold inwards, hardly taking up any space, and now their eyes have to get used to another experience all together.

Warm light floods into the tunnel.

‘Electricity,’ Carl breathes. ‘You have power!’

‘Yup,’ Amaka leads them through the doors and down a corridor. Their footsteps are no longer the only sound echoing through the building. Voices and footsteps and a hammer clanging on metal. There’s laughter and the rustling of fabrics, doors opening and falling shut and water running somewhere. ‘This is it.’

‘Holy hell,’ Daryl mutters as he looks around.

The station used to be a lot bigger than he’d thought. Instead of just one or maybe two tracks on either side of the platform, there are more than he can count. Walls have been broken through between the tracks to create one enormous open space. There are tables everywhere with piles of goods on them, reminding him of the market place inside the Sanctuary. People are trading clothes and chatting while inspecting pots and pans. There’s someone weaving a tapestry, another sharpens a knife and there’s a butcher at work in one of the corners. In another corner, makeshift walls have been made with empty bookshelves. Through the gaps, Daryl can spot small desks and children’s head bowed as they do their reading.

Everything is lit up by a gigantic rig of lights above them. Daryl tries to look at it, but it’s too bright. It feels strangely warm, too. The darkness from the tunnel disappears from their minds.

‘Amazing,’ Paul laughs. ‘You made this?’

‘Well, it sure wasn’t here before,’ Amaka laughs. ‘Come on, Mason told me to meet him in his quarters. You see that platform up there? That’s his home. The rest of us sleep in the wagons. You’ll see them once we get to the staircase.’

The people try not to stare when they weave their way towards the staircase on the other side of the platform. It used to be a security platform with big walls mostly made out of glass, though they’re now covered up by curtains. They follow Amaka up and are greeted by Mason.

‘Welcome to the real Washington D.C.’ he says while shaking their hands warmly. ‘Thank you, Amaka. Please, everyone – have a seat.’

There’s a table set for them. There are bowls with pieces of freshly baked bread, scrambled eggs and fruit. There’s filtered water and tea made with herbs which reminds Daryl of the drinks Beth sometimes makes. He sits down on the chair furthest from the middle and wraps his hands around the hot cup, soaking up the heat.

The conversation floats past him. He supposes it doesn’t matter much that he’s not paying a lot of attention. Carl is representing Alexandria, Paul Hilltop and Monica will keep the Kingdom’s interest in her mind, as well as Oceanside since she’s been there often now that the war has ended.

Daryl gets up from his seat and walks back towards the staircase, where he can look out over the community. He sits down on the top step.

Everyone seems to be busy with their morning chores. People are washing clothes and someone is getting a haircut at one of the stalls. Against the furthest wall, on the last tracks, he can see the wagons Amaka had been talking about earlier. It’s a train, stalled at the station. People are ducking in and out. Some windows are open, others are closed and covered by curtains or blacked out with what looks like paint.

Some people wear the same kind of armor Amaka has. Made out of shiny leather, wrapping around shoulders and ribcages. He can see metal shimmering in some of the constructions, plates placed like scales to protect chests and spines. It reminds him of the Kingdom’s armor he used to wear during the war, though these pieces look much more comfortable.

‘Hey.’ Someone jumps down beside him and sits down.

It startles Daryl. He jerks, one hand going for his knife until he can feel hot tea sloshing over the cup and splashing onto his other hand. ‘Jesus fucking Christ!’ he curses as he quickly transfers the cup to his right hand and shakes his left to get the water off.

‘I’m sorry! Shit! Are you okay?’

Daryl opens his mouth to snarl but the words never quite make it out. Instead, he falters and then just glares at the teenager who’d sat down next to him. It’s Taiwo, bright-eyed and grinning, looking only a little guilty.

‘Sorry I spooked you,’ he says. ‘Do you need to run that under some cold water or something?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Okay. Well, sorry again.’ He leans forward with his elbows on his knees to see past the Dixon boy. ‘What were you looking at?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Okay,’ he draws the word out and puts his chin on his hand, eyeing the teenager. ‘Where are you from?’

‘None of your business.’

Taiwo frowns. ‘You’re gonna hate me forever because I made you jump? I said I was sorry.’

‘Yeah, I don’t care.’

The teenager runs a hand through his natural hair, pulling at one strand until it snaps back into a perfect curl. He sighs and slides a couple of steps down the staircase before getting up and walking back. His boots stomp on every step.

Daryl frowns.

‘You hear me coming this time, right?’ Taiwo smirks and then holds out his hand. ‘I know you know my name, and technically we’ve met, but…Hey. I’m Taiwo, from Washington D.C. Thanks for not stabbing my sister. I know it’s hard to resist a given opportunity like that, but really… she’s not _that_ bad.’

Daryl can’t help but smirk at that. He stands up so he seems taller than the other even though it’s only because he’s two steps higher. He wipes his hand on his jeans to get rid of the last spots of tea and then shakes his hand. ‘Yeah, was pretty hard. Hi. I’m Daryl Dixon from Alexandria.’

Taiwo’s eyebrows shoot up. ‘Alexandria?’

‘We done told Mason; that shit you’ve heard? Weren’t us.’

‘Yeah, there was a whole community meeting. Senders have been coming and going all morning.’

‘Senders?’

‘Yeah,’ Taiwo smiles. ‘Runners. Senders. Messengers –‘

Daryl takes another step back up the staircase. ‘What the hell do you mean? People are sending messages? There are _others_?’

‘What? No. I mean –‘ Taiwo looks at him quizzically. ‘Oh shit,’ he laughs after a second. ‘You thought _this_ was Washington. No, it’s the whole system, the whole community. This is just the Southern station. We have six in total. Most look just like this, underground, though we keep the outside perimeter safe. We have one station that’s above ground. Lots of green ‘nd stuff. I’m not gonna tell you where the other stations are,’ Taiwo says when Daryl opens his mouth. ‘They’re connect by the tunnels of course. That’s how we send messages; just people running along the tracks,’ he scratches the back of his neck and shrugs. ‘Primitive, but it works.’

Daryl bites on his lip and looks at the dark tunnels on either side of the station. ‘Guess we do the same, but at least we can fucking see if we’ll trip over a walker.’

‘That what you call them? Walkers?’

‘Yeah.’

Taiwo nods and wobbles on the balls of his feet. ‘So…. What’re you doing here? On the stairs, I mean. I thought you’d be negotiating. That’s what you wanted, right? Why you came here in the first place, and now you’re not even sitting at the table.’

‘Think my job is to get _them_ at the table,’ Daryl says with a small smile. ‘It’s kinda a new thing, so I ain’t even sure. They seem to be doin’ fine.’ He glances back at the table and sees how Carl eagerly nods and laughs with Mason over a shared joke.

‘But now you’re just sitting here, _spying_ on us.’

‘Weren’t spyin’ on nothing!’

Taiwo smirks. ‘Amaka said it was easy to bait you.’

‘Yeah?’ Daryl sniffs, ‘what else did she say?’

The smirk turns into a teasing smile. ‘A lot of interesting stuff. Don’t worry about it, man.’ He shakes his head while laughing and then leans over the banister, looking at a couple of kids who are running between the stalls. ‘Yo! Johnny and Frank! Get your asses to school, right now! Yeah, I see you,’ he laughs. ‘Just because your guardian isn’t here to whoop you for skipping, doesn’t mean the whooping won’t happen. Get!’

Daryl tilts his chin higher. A scowl creeps onto his face.

Taiwo watches how the two kids weave through the market place to get to the classroom, shoving each other to get there first and then complaining to their teacher about how the other one made them late. He laughs and turns to Daryl. ‘They hate school. They’re always trying to skip.’

‘So you threaten to whoop them? Teach them good?’

The smile disappears from Taiwo’s face at the teenager’s icy tone. ‘That was a joke. Just a – I didn’t – what the hell. Of course I didn’t _mean_ it.’

‘Then quit sayin’ it.’

Taiwo rocks back onto his heels and thinks for a moment. ‘Fine. Sorry.’

‘Ain’t me you should be apologizin’ to. I don’t give a fuck.’

‘Another thing Amaka said about you; you’re a _terrible_ liar! That was _bad_ , dude.’

Daryl glares.

‘I keep telling him that,’ a voice cuts in. Paul steps onto the landing and runs a hand through his long hair before looking out over the community below them. Then he turns his back on it and glances at Taiwo. ‘He hasn’t gotten any better since I met him.’

‘How long ago was that?’ Taiwo asks curiously.

‘A year, maybe. We’re not sure. Before the war started,’ Paul says before he turns to the Dixon. ‘We’ll need to get Beth. They want to trade medicine, so we’ll need to know which ones. I’ve told them; any and all will do, but…’ he waves a vague hand. ‘They’re going to need specifics, probably want to trade some. I don’t know what we have.’

‘Why Beth? What about Harlan. Or Alex?’

Paul glances at Taiwo. ‘Beth will do,’ he says before pushing himself away from the railing again. ‘Grab something to eat before they clear the table, Daryl.’

Taiwo and Daryl watch how he walks back inside and sits down next to Carl again, leaning in to check some map the teenager is sketching.

‘Who’s Beth?’

‘My sister,’ Daryl mutters with a knotted brow.

‘Ah,’ Taiwo sits down on the railing and picks at his fingernails. ‘Is she just as hot as you?’

Anger flares in Daryl’s chest. ‘You so desperate to get your fucking dick wet that you’re going after girls you’ve never seen now? You say something about my sister again, and I’ll beat you into the goddamn ground, you hear me?’

Taiwo looks to his left. Then to his right. ‘ _Okay_ ,’ he says slowly, ‘I was _honestly_ hoping you’d focus on the part where I implied you were hot, because that was kind of my main message there. I don’t give a shit about your sister. Whether she’s hot I mean! Wishing her all the best of course.’ He snaps his fingers and then sticks his thumb up.

Daryl stares at him.

‘I told you; Amaka had lots of interesting things to say about you.’

Daryl grits his teeth.

‘That dude probably wants to bring in your sister ‘cause she has a pretty smile so she can charm the guy who’s running our medicine department. I’ll give it to him; might even work. Some people are too stupid to realize cute girls didn’t survive this long because they have big tits and a sweet smile.’

‘You got an idiot runnin’ your medicine department?’

‘Well, he’s a genius of course, but you know how some guys get around pretty girls, don’t you?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Not us though. Right?’

Daryl narrows his eyes.

‘You don’t have to answer that. It’s all cool,’ Taiwo says hastily. ‘Sorry. I swear I’m not prying – just… you know. Endlessly optimistic.’

‘About what?’

Taiwo’s gaze moves from the top of Daryl’s head all the way to his boots. Then he beams. ‘Nothing. Do you want to see the rest of the community? Come on, or do you want to go back to that boring meeting? Not really, right? _Right_?’ he edges and then grins when Daryl gives him a small smile. ‘See? You want to.’

It frightens Daryl that he really does want to. ‘Maybe later,’ he mumbles instead and slinks back into the room to rejoin the meeting.

 

 

It’s midday when the meeting is put on hold for the time being. Paul and Monica are standing in a corner, whispering about what options they have and who they should bring back next time to make more solid deals concerning medicine, and whether they should give Mason the Kingdom’s coordinates.

Daryl and Carl are slouching in their seats.

‘Thought this would be fun,’ Carl mutters. ‘Next time, we’re sending dad. This is so fucking boring.’

Daryl groans and runs his hands through his long hair. ‘You’re the one who wanted the new world, man. This is all your fault. I didn’t even want this. If it were up to me? We’d be home, man. I don’t even care anymore. They want our sheep? Fucking fine. What – fuckin - _ever_.’

‘They can’t have the one with the black spot on its head though,’ Carl mumbles as he looks up at the ceiling. ‘Enid loves that one. She named it’

‘What’s their name then?’

‘Spot.’

Daryl groans loudly again. ‘You’re both so fucking lame.’

Carl sits up, ‘what do you call a sheep with a spot on its face then?’

‘Captain curls,’ Daryl answers promptly. ‘Me and Asskicker already named that one, so suck it, loser.’

His brother narrows his eye. ‘But it has a spot.’

‘We ain’t calling you One-eye, now are we?’

Amaka sniggers.

Daryl glares at her immediately. ‘Got something to say? You laughing ‘bout his eye, ‘cause if you are, you’re gettin’ an arrow in the ass.’

Carl rolls his eyes and smiles at Amaka. ‘Don’t worry, he’s all talk. Though he’s pretty good with that crossbow. I mean; _really_ good. Turkey between the eyes from… like. A hundred feet.’

Amaka gives Carl a pointed look and then turns to her brother. ‘Did you hear that, Tai? He’s really good with the crossbow. That’s cool, right?’

Carl stares at the girl for a second before shifting his attention too. ‘Oh! Yeah, err.. Tai? Taiwo, right? Yeah, he’s – he’s… good. With a crossbow.’

Taiwo lifts an eyebrow at Daryl, gaze lingering on the red ears sticking out of the dark hair. ‘Is that so?’

‘I don’t know him,’ Daryl mutters while kicking his brother. ‘We found him by the side of the road. Barely more brain function that a goddamn walker but – _will you fucking stop_ ,’ he hisses when Carl wiggles his eyebrows at Amaka and then gestures at Taiwo with his chin.

‘He’s nice like that,’ Carl laughs at the twin. ‘Took me in like his pet walker. Loved me, cared for me,’ he slides out of his seat and hops into Daryl’s lap, his arms around the Dixon’s neck and pressing close to him, ‘protected me!’

‘You’re gonna need some goddamn protection,’ Daryl shoves him onto the ground and pins him by digging his knee into his brother’s sternum. He pulls his balled fist back.

‘ _Daryl!_ Are you out of your mind?’

A hand grabs Daryl’s upper arm to yank him back to his feet.

‘I’m saved,’ Carl sniggers. ‘Praise be to Jesus.’

Daryl jerks his arm back and the hand lets go. He scoffs at Paul, ‘why’re you always picking his side? He’s being an asshole!’

Paul’s eyes soften. ‘Listen – Carl’s fragile. You have to be really gentle with him, he doesn’t understand what’s really going on and-‘

‘Go fuck yourself!’ Carl protests.

Daryl leans down and folds his hand over Carl’s mouth. ‘Sssh. It’s okay. It’s okay, just relax. That bullet probably hit your brain  and now there’s just all kinds of bullshit spouting out of your mouth, but it’s okay, brother. I got ya.’ He pinches Carl’s nose closed. ‘You’re going to a better place, with a real Jesus, not some kind of fake wannabe and-‘ he laughs when Paul drags him off Carl again.

‘I saw the light,’ Carl pants while laughing. ‘Everything felt so warm, or maybe that was just Dare pissing his pants above me because he thought Jesus wasn’t on his side, _boohoo_.’

Amaka wrinkles her nose while her twin brother laughs. ‘Ew. You two are crazy. If we stay here for an hour to wait until the next meeting starts, you’ll both be dead by the time Mason gets back.’ She gets up. ‘Want to see the rest of the community? We can show you around if you want.’

‘Yeah!’ Carl jumps up too. ‘That’d be great!’

‘They’re bringing lunch out for us,’ Monica objects.

‘Can you save us a plate?’ Carl is already half-way out of the door. ‘Can we go see the train? How long is it? Could it still run?’

‘Sure. We haven’t actually measured it, but pretty long. And no,’ Amaka grins as she follows him outside. ‘Down the stairs, careful it’s pretty steep.’ There’s a loud bang and a curse. ‘I said; careful!’

Daryl rolls his eyes at Taiwo. ‘Best try to keep up, or he’ll get himself killed. And he’ll probably take her down with him.’

‘After you then,’ Taiwo grins as he gestures at the door.

‘Daryl,’ Paul glances at the other teenager before stepping closer to his friend. ‘Do you think that’s a good idea? I could come with you.’

‘Nah,’ Daryl moves past him to the door. He taps two fingers on his gun in a way that only Paul can see. ‘We’ll be fine. Save me some food?’

‘Yes, but-‘

‘I’ll bring him back in one piece, safe and sound,’ Taiwo promises. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

Paul shoots him a dismayed look.

‘Or not,’ the teenager holds up his hands and tiptoes past the scout, ‘whatever you want. Watch the stairs, Daryl.’

‘Yup, got it.’ The Dixon jumps down the last couple of steps to land next to his brother. They both listen while Amaka explains that their community is running on solar, wind and water power, generated above ground. The lights are on for most of the day, though sometimes it cuts off when there’s more power needed in their hospital, which is apparently at another station.

The lights not only illuminate the dark below, but there are also special lights which give the illusion of sunshine. It makes people less depressed and also provides them with vitamin D for those who don’t want to go outside again.

‘So, this is it.’ Amaka pets the train like it’s a friendly dog. ‘Our home! See?’ They jump inside the first carriage. It’s not like anything Daryl remembers. There aren’t any seats on the sides, or poles to hold onto. Instead, there are rows and rows of bunkbeds. It reminds him of their sleeping arrangements in the prison, only he had to share with just his brother and not ten others.

‘This is the part for the men. You can get your own space, or built your own shack around your market stall if you have one, of course, but most prefer to sleep here. Women is the next one over. Families have their own. Well, parts of one of course. Here,’ Amaka jumps out again and walks along the train, into the tunnel.

Carl follows her curiously.

Daryl hesitates.

‘It runs for miles and miles,’ Taiwo says, ‘but our room is just two carriages over. We won’t take you any further than that, and we have a light in our room. Most people have to share, but… we don’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘I’ll tell you sometime,’ Taiwo promises before ducking into the darkness of the tunnel. There’s a platform that runs alongside the metal structure. His footsteps echo.

Daryl follows him.

‘Welcome, welcome, no need to take your shoes off!’ Amaka beams when Daryl finally makes it. ‘Come in!’

Daryl shares a look with Carl.

His brother laughs and turns on the spot, taking it all in. ‘I know, right?’

There aren’t any bunkbeds here nor any gray walls. Instead, they’re painted a light blue color that reminds Daryl of the early mornings, when the air is still cold but there’s a promise of summer heat in the sky. There are brightly colored rugs on the floors. Some have wild patterns, others stripes or polka dots. Most of them are a shade of green, with splashes of pink, red or yellow.

There’s one bed near the door and another on the other side of the room. A curtain can be drawn right in the middle of the carriage to create at least the illusion of privacy.

There’s a bookcase covering at least half of the entire left wall, but instead of books, it’s filled with records. Hundreds of them.

Daryl slowly walks to that side of the room. He takes a record out and studies it. He doesn’t know the singer, nor does he recognize the name of the songs on it. He puts it back.

‘Eh,’ Taiwo takes the record back out and puts it back in another spot, ‘there. Sorry. It took me almost an entire week to get it perfectly alphabetical, so… otherwise I won’t ever be able to find that one record I want, you see?’

‘Yeah, ‘course. Sorry,’ Daryl says. There’s a record player standing on a little stool next to the bed. ‘Wow. That’s… that’s cool.’

‘I have cd’s, too! And tapes!’ Taiwo dashes over to a smaller dresser and pulls the top drawer open. Instead of clothes, it’s filled with tapes, rattling in their plastic cases. ‘I sort of mentioned to someone I liked music, before. So… people keep bringing me the stuff they find.’

‘That is awesome,’ Carl breathes. ‘I don’t even know when’s the last time I’ve heard music. Beth singing for Hershel, yeah, but full on music? I dunno. The party we threw at Alexandria, maybe? Dare?’

‘Yeah, guess so,’ Daryl lies.

‘Well,’ Taiwo holds out his arms and laughs, ‘what do you want to hear, because I have it all.’

Carl looks at Daryl for help.

‘You got something from – got something from Kiss? It’s a thing!’ Daryl says quickly when Carl chokes on nothing at all before laughing. ‘Paul and Maggie were talkin’ about it – I – Hell, I don’t know!’

‘Are you serious right now? Smooth, Dare! Real smooth.’

Taiwo ducks his head to hide his smile. ‘Sure, Daryl, erm – lemme see.’ He lets his finger glide over the spines of the records. ‘One kiss for Daryl, coming up. And it’s a band, not a thing. Kinda old school and – here it is!’ He takes the record out and carefully puts the pin in place.

‘Do the second song,’ Amaka urges, needling him in the side as she looks at the cover. ‘I was made for l-‘

‘Shut up,’ Taiwo hisses. He glances up at Daryl. ‘You can sit down if you want.’

The music starts to play.

Daryl sits down on the edge of the bed.

Carl falls onto the end and pretends to play guitar.

Amaka laughs at him.

Taiwo smirks and walks around the bed, climbing up on the other side and sitting against the headrest.

‘What’s the song called?’

‘Heaven’s on fire.’

Daryl slowly scoots back until his back hits the headrest too. ‘Okay. Thanks for puttin’ it on.’

‘Yeah, no problem, dude.’

They listen to the music.

Daryl slowly relaxes into the pillows.

‘This is some good shit,’ Carl sighs happily.

Daryl glances at Taiwo, who pretends he wasn’t looking at him. ‘Yeah,’ he says while his cheeks burn brightly. He brings up a hand to gnaw on his thumb. ‘Real good.’

 

 


	22. Cool stuff

 

* * *

 

 

The music dies between them.

Daryl is sitting on the edge of Amaka’s bed now. It’s closer to the door and he can hear the echoing footsteps of the people outside. There’s no other entrance. One hand is resting on the gun on his thigh while the other is raised so he can chew on his fingernail. His gaze flashes from the door to Taiwo every two seconds.

The other teenager is lounging on his own bed. One arm folded behind his head and eyes closed. His free hand had been tapping along to the music but now it just rests on the softness of his belly.

It’s just the two of them.

Three songs ago, Carl had gone back with Amaka to rejoin the meeting. It had surprised everyone in the room that Daryl had agreed to stay behind and listen to some more music with Taiwo. His brother had hesitated, always nervous when they’re separated, but he’d left to follow Amaka back into the light of the community anyway.

‘Do you want to hear something else?’ Taiwo asks. ‘Do you have a favorite band or singer?’

‘Nah.’

Taiwo lifts himself onto his elbows and looks at him. ‘Oh.’

Daryl feels a blush rising from his chest to his neck and ears. He supposes that most people have a favorite. It almost feels like he’s failed one of Aaron’s test questions. ‘I like Jazz though,’ he says, ‘but you don’t gotta play none. Probably shouldn’t waste the power, right?’

‘The levels have been steady all week,’ the teenager says as he sits up and swings his legs off the bed to get another record. ‘If they need it for something important, or we’re running low? We get cut off. So if it works; it’s okay to use it. That’s the rule. So we’re good.’ He searches in his large collection and pulls a record off the shelf. ‘Do you want to put it on?’

‘Nah.’

Taiwo frowns but doesn’t say anything as he moves to the record player.

‘Don’t wanna break it,’ Daryl explains quickly. ‘I ain’t ever – I don’t know-‘ he gives a small wave into the direction of the machine and then glances at the door again to make sure nobody is coming in. ‘Don’t know how to do it.’

‘Well, I can show you if you come here,’ Taiwo drops the record onto the bed and then walks to the door. ‘And I’m going to do something else because you’re driving me nuts. Look,’ he grabs the handle of the door and pulls on it. He has to pull so hard that he groans and practically hangs off it but then the door starts to slide back into place. It closes. ‘That’s one,’ he starts undoing his belt and puts it on the floor, ‘and that’s two. My dao, knife and dagger.’ He holds up his hands and walks backwards away from them. ‘Can you chill out now?’

Something in Daryl’s chest loosens. He lets his hand slide away from his gun. ‘Sorry, it’s –, haven’t been ‘round new people in a while.’

‘I haven’t either. Come on, I’ll show you how the record player works.’

Daryl cautiously gets up, one hand grasping the band of his crossbow, fingers turning white on the rough material. He sits down next to the other boy. Exactly one foot between them so he has time to block a swing should it come his way.

Taiwo puts the record on and then takes the needle off again. ‘You do it.’

Daryl takes the record and clumsily puts it in place. ‘Like this?’

‘Yeah, press play, the big button there.’

Daryl presses it and can’t help but smirk when the music starts to fill the room again. It’s a warm sound, different from the car radio he used to listen to with Paul or Rick, and nothing like the booming noise of their last party in Alexandria. It’s more fragile, creaking and crackling, and strangely reminding him of a campfire.

‘So,’ Taiwo looks at his boots and kicks them together. ‘Where are you from? Like – before.’

‘Atlanta, Georgia,’ Daryl answers. ‘Small town near it at least. You?’

‘Washington D.C. I grew up here. We used to live on the outskirts of the city though, felt more like a small town than the capitol. When it all started, we were evacuated to a neighborhood not too far from here. It fell in the end of course,’ Taiwo rubs at his nose and looks away. ‘Nothing lasted in the end.’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl chews on his bottom lip. ‘My dad didn’t believe it at first – that shit was going down, ya know? So we stayed put. Everyone else had already left for Atlanta. We got stuck in traffic. I walked to the hill to take a piss and just…’ He mimics an explosion with his hands. ‘They bombed the city. It burned down to nothing.’

‘Shit.’

‘Yeah. Was fucked up.’

‘Yeah.’

They listen to the music. Slowly, the nerves leave Daryl’s body. It’s replaced by endless curiosity. He’s bursting to ask a million questions but just doesn’t know where to start, or how to ask them. He glances at the other boy and wants to know where he got his armor, who made it, and where he’d found his dao. How long they’ve been underground, why they’re coming out into the light now. But other stuff as well. What he does in his free time, which music he likes best, whether he likes comics and knows how to ride a horse. Does he have a lot of friends and what are they like, and maybe they can all hang out sometime?

It’s been just him and Carl for such a long time.

After a long time, the first questions stutters over his lips. ‘How did you all end up here? Underground?’

Taiwo gets up. ‘Come on, I’ll show you something cool.’ He shuts the music off and then hauls the door back open. ‘You got our knife on you, just in case?’

‘’course.’

‘Cool.’ He leaves his weapons behind. ‘We haven’t had an infiltration in months, but you can’t let your guard down in the tunnels. Not every exit and entrance is guarded. We try to block most of them, but it would seems pretty suspicious if every metro entrance and emergency exit is blocked, right? If someone came sniffing around town.’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl mutters, ‘guess so.’ He follows the other teenager further down the tunnel until they reach the end of the train, or rather; the beginning. They slip into a carriage that’s obviously used for storage. There’s a door behind some stacked crates.

Taiwo easily jumps over the crates, feet slipping over the metal before smoothly landing on the other side. He turns around and holds his hand out. ‘Just jump on there, I’ll catch you.’

Daryl snorts and vaults the obstacle, landing beside him with a soft thud.

‘Or you can just do it like that, sure, that works,’ Taiwo laughs, shoving the Dixon’s shoulder playfully.

The touch first causes Daryl to freeze, his mind reeling, but he manages to snap out of that quickly. He laughs softly, shoulder still curling inward to get away from the other, but he laughs all the same.

They’re standing in the tiny space where the operator would have been. There’s no wheel or gas pedal, but there’s a big chair and lots of buttons. There are meters and lights and screens, but none of them work. The train itself doesn’t have power.

‘Here,’ Taiwo jumps into the seat and swivels around so he’s facing the panel. ‘Look.’

Daryl squeezes past the chair to lean in and look at the small square that the other teenager is pointing at. It’s a picture. Taped to the metal and faded over time, but still bearing the image of four people. Two small children and two adults. A man and woman, his arm around her waist and both smiling broadly at the camera. The two children are embracing tightly in front of them, their faces pressed together but turned towards the one taking the picture. A girl and boy, almost identical.

Daryl leans in closer, ‘wow, that you?’

‘Yeah! My dad used to operate this train. Or – he used to be a train operator. They’d get different tracks assigned, right? And he used to tell us all the time; I’m taping that picture to my desk, so even when it’s dark underground, there’s light with me.’ Taiwo hums and looks at the picture. ‘We didn’t believe him. At least; I didn’t. Amaka was obsessed, after we lost him… she just _had_ to find it.’

‘And she did.’

‘Yeah.’ He swivels his chair so Daryl can put one foot on it to hop onto the panel and sit there. ‘Our dad took us underground when the refugee camp fell. It got overrun. Completely overrun out of nowhere. We were – Amaka and I were twelve when it all started so we weren’t of much use, our dad took us underground because he knew the way there. I remember running through these tunnels that night. We holed up in an office for a while, until we couldn’t anymore.’

Daryl nods his understanding. He chews on his fingernail. ‘What happened to your mom? She weren’t with y’all?’

‘She was a nurse,’ Taiwo mutters. ‘Got bit by one of her… _patients_ ,’ he huffs out a breath of bitter laughter. ‘They thought they could still cure those things back then. One day she just went to work and never came back.’

‘Sucks, man.’

‘Yeah.’ He swivels the chair again and stares at his knees. ‘We used one of the stalled trains as our home and would go outside to find food and stuff. Sometimes we found people. Took them back here and it just kept growing bigger and bigger. Et voila,’ he holds his hands out, palms up. ‘Here we are.’

‘Here we are,’ Daryl echoes with a small smile. He looks around. ‘Got any more cool stuff to show me?’

 

 

Everyone seems to know Taiwo. The people at their market stalls, the children running around and the elderly who sit around a campfire with blankets covering their thin legs. Soldiers coming back from their shifts and what appears to be runners, coming out of the tunnels and jumping onto the platforms to deliver their messages.

Everyone calls out and waves him over.

Daryl tries to take everything in, but it’s like he has stepped into a whole new world. There are names flashing by as Taiwo answers, so many new faces that it makes him dizzy even though he tries to keep up.

He’s glad when the giant doors fold open and they make their way up the staircases again towards the light. The air is warmer here and it’s even soothing to him that he can hear walkers growling as soon as they exit the metro station. At least he knows where they are now, instead of them just being shadows in the dark.

He breathes in deeply and stretches, soaking up the sunshine.

‘You like being outside?’

‘Better than being some sewage rat,’ Daryl says and he’s glad that Taiwo laughs at the joke.

‘Asshole. Tell me something about yourself. How did you end up all the way in D.C?’

‘Walked.’

Taiwo rolls his eyes. ‘Really? No shit. Walked why, with who, past what? You watched the Atlanta bombing, then what happened?’

‘I dunno,’ Daryl murmurs as they walk through the abandoned streets together. ‘Found a place, lost a place, found another. Same shit every time. Just didn’t last.’

‘Alexandria lasted, right?’

‘Kinda. It got burned down during the war,’ Daryl explains when Taiwo looks confused. ‘They’re rebuilding it now.’

‘People keep mentioning the war. Heard things about it from the guys who were at the meeting,’ Taiwo says. ‘Guess it was pretty fucked up, no?’

‘Yeah, guess so,’ Daryl mutters as he looks up at the tall buildings surrounding them so he won’t have to look at the other boy. ‘I mostly just heard shit, ya know? Was hard to have to sit around and wait for news all the time. They didn’t want me to… I didn’t fight. In the war? I didn’t fight.’

Taiwo frowns. ‘You don’t seem the type to sit back and do nothing.’

‘Kept my people fed. That ain’t doing _nothing_ ,’ Daryl snaps.

‘Yeah – no, I’m sorry. I just assumed…. Sorry.’

‘Yeah, well – what’re we doin’ out here, anyway? I got empty streets at home I could be lookin’ at.’

Taiwo snorts and shoves his shoulder, ‘this way. Wanna meet my friends? Amaka will bring Carl up when the meeting is done, I’m sure. We mostly hang out here until curfew. Mason doesn’t really like us being outside, but he sort of pretends not to know.’ He leads the Dixon into one of the houses and up the staircase. There’s a dodgy looking ladder in the middle of it that leads to the attic. Taiwo climbs up first.

‘Look who it is!’ Someone hoots as cheers erupt from different spots inside the attic. ‘Taiwo! Just in time, too. Vera was just about to embarrass herself in front of everyone. Go on. Tell him what you just told me!’

‘Oh, shut up, Felix.’

‘No, no! Come on, those were some _wise_ words! She said; if I go left on Eight, left on the intersection, left on White, then I’ll be good. Girl, you’ll be fucking back where you started,’ a voice cries out. ‘What do you _mean_? Goddamn.’

‘I meant _right_ on White!’

‘That’s not wat you said though!’

Taiwo rolls his eyes as he hoists himself onto the landing. ‘Okay, shut up now. I brought a visitor, so pretend to be normal for five seconds, please.’

Daryl starts climbing the ladder.

‘A visitor?’ a girl’s voice asks. ‘Is it your future boyfriend? _Oh my God_!’ she giggles when Daryl clambers on next to Taiwo. Her hands are covering her mouth to hide her laughter, ‘it _is_! Oh my _God_!’

‘Vera,’ Taiwo hisses angrily. ‘Cut it out!’

Daryl scowls at the giggling girl, who is rolling back on a matrass to hide her face in the stomach of the teenager who is lounging next to her. He’s laughing too, his arm curling around her shoulder and dragging her closer, nudging the side of her head with his nose.

‘Don’t mind them,’ another pipes up. ‘They’re idiots. Hey.’ It’s another boy. He’s sitting on the back of a couch, feet on the cushions and elbows on his knees while he leans forward. He’s wearing a black wife beater and light jeans with scuffed army boots. His hair is so blond that it would match Beth’s. ‘I’m Felix.’

Daryl nods hello. ‘Daryl.’

‘We know,’ Felix laughs. ‘We were sitting on the fire escape when you were dragged through the gates by Amaka. I thought Taiwo was spouting bullshit as usual when he said he’d ran into two guys in the city.’

Everyone is looking at him.

Daryl feels his ears start to burn. He doesn’t like it that Carl isn’t here to back him up, either when things go south, or like now, when he just doesn’t know how to keep a conversation going. Nerves still his tongue and cause his scowl to turn dark, eyes just dangerous slits.

‘Well,’ Daryl mutters, pushes his hands into the pockets of his jeans, ‘he weren’t.’

‘You can’t blame us, he’s always spouting bullshit,’ Felix grins. He’s missing a tooth on the left side. ‘I get to say that; he’s my best friend. Him and Amaka both, since day one.’

‘Is that a _crossbow_?’

Daryl glances back at the girl and hunches his shoulders. One hand comes up curl protectively around the strap. ‘Yeah, so?’

‘Jees,’ she falls back against her friend, rolling her eyes, ‘it was just a question. I thought the South was known for their manners. Can you show us? Shoot something.’

Daryl tilts his chin higher. ‘Ain’t no party trick, girl.’

‘Leave him alone,’ Taiwo warns.

The girl glares at him, ‘my name is _Vera_. Not _girl_.’

‘Didn’t introduce yourself, how’s that for manners? What about you?’ He glares at the boy who is lounging next to Vera. ‘The hell are you smirkin’ at? Ain’t got nothing to say?’

Felix steps off the couch. He’s just as tall as him, eyes a strange muddle of blue and green. There are freckles on the bridge of his nose and his cheeks. He huffs out a breath of laughter. ‘This is off to a _great_ start. That’s Hakeem. He hasn’t said a word for years now, so don’t expect a polite introduction. And that’s Vera. She’s a bitch but we love her for it.’

Vera grabs a pillow and throws it at Felix’s head. Hakeem laughs silently and pretends not to when she mock-glares at him. ‘Oh sure,’ she sighs, ‘let’s all jump in to defend Taiwo’s new boy to-‘

‘Shut the fuck up, I’m serious, Vera! God,’ Taiwo aims a kick at her but she easily dodges it, though she didn’t expect the boy to pounce on her. She giggles while trying to kick him away. Hakeem just rolls to the side to give them room.

A hand touches Daryl’s elbow.

‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’ Felix  walks over to a big window in the slanted roof. There’s no glass in it anymore, and he jumps to grab the frame and hoist himself onto the roof. He groans while doing so, kicking his feet to get up, but manages. ‘It’s kinda hard, but try to pull yourself up. Maybe you should leave your bow – .’

Daryl jumps and easily pulls himself up.

‘Oh. Yeah, just sit on the frame and then scoot over here. Careful, some of the tiles might come off,’ Felix warns.

Two minutes later, they’re sitting side by side on the roof of an old townhouse. The view is pretty spectacular. The sun is starting to get lower, it’s getting late, and the whole city seems to be illuminated by golden light. Shadows haunt in alleys, stretching out over cracked concrete. Nature is reclaiming the land. Bushes have overgrown and trees are sprouting in the strangest places. There’s grass growing inside rotting living rooms, vines creeping out of windows. Small parks between the neighborhoods are now overgrown jungles.

Daryl smiles when he sees an animal grazing on what probably used to be a busy intersection. He’s not sure what this place used to look like. Washington D.C. had never been a real place to him before. At first just their capitol and pictures in his textbooks, then reporters in front of the white house and capitol building, in front of the monuments his father used to spit at. The entire city boiled down to two or three key places, all else just white noise.

He wonders who used to live in these houses. They’re big and used to be beautiful, he reckons. The paint has faded but he can tell they used to be brightly colored. Red and blue and even green. Yellow maybe, or pink.

He wonders whether they walked down this street to take the metro to work, waiting on the stations and getting into trains that are now their bedrooms. Maybe one of them now runs along those tracks with an important message, still remembering the voice over the intercom  announcing every station in that strangely uplifting tone of voice.

 ‘Do you like the view? Mason said you’re from Alexandria,’ Felix says when he can no longer contain his curiosity. ‘He said it was a city. Is it as big as D.C.?’

Daryl scoffs. ‘Nah, nowhere near. The Kingdom comes closest to what you got here, I guess. That place is big, multiple places ‘nd everything. Alexandria is just a town.’

‘It sounds bigger in the stories.’

‘Those stories weren’t about us.’

Felix hums and looks out over his city. ‘Taiwo’s dad started all of this. Isn’t that strange? We’re inside the capitol of the United State of America  and a train operator saved thousands and rebuilt it.’

‘Weren’t ever them in their big houses anyway,’ Daryl murmurs. ‘They never knew shit about surviving. We’ve been doing it all our lives.’ He wipes his nose on his shoulder. ‘That why everyone seems to know him ‘nd Amaka? Because their dad started this place?’

‘Yeah. He was our leader. It wasn’t just that. They’re tough. Mason taught them how to fight, he used to be a major in the army. He was a big fan of martial arts, too. Did it for fun on the side. He got them their weapons. The dao is pretty badass.’

Daryl laughs softly. He fishes his crumpled package of cigarettes out of his pocket. Someone in the Kingdom is trying to grow tobacco. It’s not the best stuff he has ever smoked, but it will have to do. It’s better than stale cigarettes pulled from pockets of dead men. He lights it with a plastic lighter and still misses the zippo Beth carries for him. ‘Yeah.’ The smoke ghosts over his lips and disappears into nothing. ‘Pretty badass, I guess. What happened to their dad? Got bit?’

‘No.’ Felix rubs at the side of his neck and looks away. ‘We’d been living underground since the beginning, but… it’s not a good place. I mean; it’s good, right? But…’ he shrugs. ‘It started to… bug him. He used to fight with Mason about it. Mason wanted us to stay under. Their dad didn’t want them to grow up like that though. Like rats in a tunnel system, never seeing the light,’ Felix sighs and lets his cheek rest onto his hand. ‘So he rigged up the walls. The towers. About half of our people would live outside. Here,’ he gestures, ‘in these houses.’

Something cold slides down Daryl’s pine as he steels himself. ‘What happened?’

Felix shrugs. ‘Your group is not the first to find us,’ he says. ‘But you’re the first that’s friendly. Let’s leave it at that. We beat them eventually, but the fight was bloody. Their dad died. Mason took them in. They’re his second in command by now. Or at least,’ Felix laughs softly, ‘Amaka is.’

Daryl frowns.

‘Taiwo doesn’t like _meetings_ , or _sticking to a plan_. He’s always sneaking out, or sleeping in,’ Felix laughs again. ‘He does a lot of work around here, though. He likes being outside and always brings back important stuff. He’s one of our best scouts, though he never scouts the places Mason tells him to.’

Daryl breathes in sharply and licks his lips. ‘You seem to know a lot ‘bout him.’

Felix shrugs. ‘We’re best friends. And like I said; we’ve known each other since the start.’

‘Right.’ The Dixon glances at him. ‘And you just felt like sharin’?’

The blond ignores the sneer in the words. ‘You looked like you were freaking out.’

‘Weren’t.’

‘Sure you weren’t.’

Daryl scowls but his attention is diverted. Down below, he can suddenly see two people walking down the street. Carl and Amaka. They’re both carrying a crate though Daryl isn’t able to see what’s in them from this distance.

‘I better go hold some doors open,’ Felix says as he gets up and walks back to the window. ‘End your cigarette and come back inside. Carefully. I don’t want to start the next world war because you fell to your death.’

‘Got it,’ Daryl murmurs. He keeps an eye on Carl. The sheriff’s hat obstructs his view and he can’t see the expression on his brother’s face, but his body language is relaxed. He could just as easily have been walking through Hilltop, or Alexandria. He ends his cigarette and stops worrying about his brother.

The window frame creaks. Daryl turns his head just in time to see how Taiwo pulls himself up onto the roof. His gaze travels over his outstretched arms and then the bulging muscles. He quickly looks away.

‘Hey,’ Taiwo mutters as he sits down next to him.

‘Hey.’

‘Listen,’ Taiwo shifts so he’s facing the Dixon more, eyes down before glancing up nervously. ‘Sorry about everyone – including me, I guess, just… Erm… All that stuff about –‘

‘Did she beat your brains outta your head or something? Good lord, thought I didn’t know how to make a full sentence, but you’re _way_ worse. Use your words, but do try to put them in some kind of order.’

Taiwo kicks their boots together. ‘Shut up. No, I wanted to say; I’m sorry about all the jokes about you being my boyfriend. They’re being childish. It’s sort of a running joke between us, and now they won’t stop.’

Daryl lights another cigarette so he has something to do. ‘They think that shit’s funny?’

‘Well…. Yeah. And they’re making fun of _me_ , not you. They don’t even know what Amaka told me, they don’t know anything about you. It’s just…’

‘The fuck are you hinting at all the goddamn time? If she thinks she knows anything about me, I got fucking news for her!’

Taiwo is silent for a couple of seconds.

Daryl is breathing faster, angrily smoking his cigarette with shaking hands. He refuses to meet the other man’s eye.

‘Ah, okay,’ Taiwo says as he shifts so they’re not facing each other directly anymore. ‘I get it.’

‘Get fucking _what_?’

The other man smiles and shakes his head. ‘I’ve told you that there are more stations, right? Well, I’ll give you one hint; there’s one west of here. It’s not far, if you leave there around midnight, you will be back here in time for breakfast. Might even get two hours of sleep if you don’t run into trouble and hurry up.’ He purses his lips and scuffs his boot, ‘I think it was about three years ago? There was a girl in that community. She was cool, _is_ cool by the way. She thought I wasn’t _that_ annoying, so we… we were dating, yeah?’

Daryl sets his jaw. ‘So?’

‘The reason my friends are making fun of me? I was a cocky little shit about being the first to have snared a girlfriend. A total asshole, rubbing it into their faces every two seconds. It used to drive them _nuts_.’

Daryl takes another drag. ‘Hmm-hmm.’

‘So it was kind of awkward when I figured out that I didn’t actually… I thought she was cool and nice and all that, but I didn’t want to… do anything you do with a girlfriend? And I figured out that I _would_ want to do all that with a boyfriend...’

Daryl’s ears burn. He scratches at his cheek. ‘That so, huh?’

‘ _Definitely_.’ Taiwo kicks his boot again and grins. ‘So now they’re just annoying me, trying to set me up with every guy who crosses my path.’ The grin turns a little evil, ‘in some cases, I don’t mind though.’

Daryl glances at him and quickly looks away again.

‘I just wanted to make clear that it’s cool here.’

‘Don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘I won’t bring it up again,’ Taiwo says easily. ‘And I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable.’ He shifts further away from the Dixon. ‘You might want to inform Carl again though; he’s a terrible wingman.’

Daryl snorts and throws his cigarette away. ‘You have no idea.’

The other teenager lifts an inquiring eyebrow.

‘Same thing as with your friends, I guess. He’s got a girlfriend, and now he’s tryin’ real hard to help me get one, too.’ He watches how Taiwo’s face falls. ‘Or a boyfriend.’

Taiwo perks up and then gasps with mock outrage, ‘you did that on purpose.’

Daryl laughs, ‘yeah. Sorry. That was funny though.’

‘My heart broke and got fixed in two seconds flat. Everything hurts,’ Taiwo moans as he clutches his chest and leans back against the roof. ‘One more thing learned about Daryl Dixon; he’s an asshole.’

‘I think that was in Carl’s pitch somewhere, too,’ Daryl grins. ‘It was either before he casually mentioned that I have the best horse of the Kingdom, or after that random mention of the motorcycle I built. And I didn’t built it on my own, people taught me how to do it, by the way.’

Taiwo hums, ‘I actually think it was after the first time he told me that you’re a _god_ with that crossbow.’

Daryl groans and covers his face with his hands.

‘And what was that shit about-‘

‘ _Stop_. Please stop.’

Taiwo laughs and shoves his shoulder playfully. ‘Sure. He’s here, so he probably has more stuff to tell me.’

‘He’s gonna know how good I am with that bow. Bolt in his ass, man.’ Daryl gets up to jump back inside via the window first.

 

 

Carl and Amaka brought dinner for all of them. The food is good and the company even better. Carl and Daryl share the couch, laughing along with the stories Vera, Felix and the twins are telling, though it’s mostly Hakeem’s facial expressions and heavy sighs that has them in stitches every time.

The sun goes down and the attic is lit by a single candle in their midst.

The two brothers are a mess of limbs as they listen to Amaka tell another story. Carl’s head is on Daryl’s belly, one arm curling around the boy to his back. His fingers scratch at the wings on his brother’s back. Their legs are intertwined, mostly because Carl had wanted the last bite of their food and Daryl tried to hold it far away, not really expecting his brother to climb all over him. In the end, Carl just fell down on top of him, completely comfortable while Daryl complained.

Taiwo and Amaka are sitting on the armchair. The girl sitting normally while her brother is perched on one of the armrests, leaning back against her shoulder, his head on top of hers.

In the end, they decide to head back underground.

Taiwo hops off the chair and stretched before walking over to Hakeem to wake him up, since he’d fallen asleep about half an hour ago.

Carl is sleeping, too.

Taiwo stops next to the couch and stoops. ‘Is that his new plan? Making me jealous?’

Daryl blushes. ‘Ain’t like that.’

‘You should ask if it’s working.’

Daryl frowns, ‘er- is it workin’?’

‘Yes.’ Taiwo smirks and then heads over to his friend to gently shake his shoulder.

 

 

The two brother sneak into the hallway and try to tiptoe towards the kitchen. They already had a heated but whispered discussion about whether they should just sleep in the hallway or risk waking Paul and Monica by sneaking into the kitchen where the others are probably already asleep. The hallway would be less risky, but should either of them wake up in the night and see that the two teenagers aren’t back yet, there would be hell to pay either way, they reckon.

In the end, none of that matters.

Paul is still awake. He’s sitting on the kitchen counter, leaning with his back against the fridge. He glares at the two teenagers. ‘I thought you’d both wanted to know that we’re sleeping in the bedrooms upstairs. It’s safe here.’ He hops off the counter. ‘Get some sleep.’

The words are so clipped and cold that Carl’s eyes widen and he looks at Daryl with alarm. ‘You talk to him,’ he hisses and shoves the Dixon after Paul when the scout stalks out of the kitchen.

‘Why me?’

‘Because I’m scared,’ Carl sniggers, ‘go! _Go_.’

Daryl groans but then runs after the man. He catches him on the staircase. ‘Paul? The hell is wrong?’

‘ _What the hell is wrong_?’ Paul repeats slowly. He turns around on the step to look at the teenager. ‘Where do you want me to start, exactly? Maybe right where you just disappeared into thin air after the break, not even bothering to let anyone of us know that you were staying with Amaka’s brother.’

‘Carl knew.’

‘Is Carl responsible for you right now?’ Paul demands.

‘Yes?’ Daryl answers promptly. ‘And I’m my own man. Been standing on my own two feet for longer than you know, man. I didn’t _disappear_ ; I told my brother I were stayin’ with Taiwo. Sorry if he didn’t think you needed to know that.’

Paul breathes out sharply and glares at him. ‘And the rest of the day?’

‘I’ve just been hangin’ with Tai, we had dinner with his group of friends.’

Paul closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. ‘Tai,’ he breathes. ‘ _Right_.’

Daryl frowns. ‘What’s wrong with that? Y’all didn’t need me at the negotiation table, so I thought it’d be fine if-‘

‘No, we didn’t need you,’ Paul snaps. ‘Go _hang with Tai_ if that’s what you want.’

The small eyes of the Dixon get even smaller. ‘Oh, you got to be shittin’ me,’ he sneers. ‘That’s what’s wrong with it? Tai? Pfft.’ He hitches his bow higher onto his shoulder and slinks past Paul up the stairs. ‘You mad I got friends now?

‘He doesn’t want to be _friends_!’

‘And what is it to you, because you _did_ , Paul!’ Daryl snarls. ‘We are friends because that’s what _you_ wanted. And now you’re mad that I’m moving on? You can’t have it both ways, man!’

‘Jumping at the first chance you get is not moving on!’

A bitter laugh escapes the teenager. ‘Go blow off some steam with Alex, man. Practice what you fucking preach. Later.’ He picks a bedroom at random and kicks his boots into a corner. His crossbow on the floor next to the bed and his gun on the nightstand. He falls face first in the blankets.

A door down the hallway slams closed.

Three minutes later, Carl sneaks into the bedroom after having checked two others. ‘Hey. Is it okay if I sleep with you?’ He kicks his boots off before getting an answer and puts his gun on his side of the bed. He gets in and sighs as he tosses his hat to the side. ‘What was up with Jesus?’

Daryl shuffles around on the bed until he can rest his face into his brother’s side, hiding his face and soaking up his warmth.

‘Oh,’ Carl says softly. He scoots lower and wraps his arms around Daryl, holding him tightly and not saying anything else.

Only one of them sleeps easy that night.

 

 

 


	23. Someone else

 

* * *

 

 

‘Dare, _Daryl_! Wake up, _wake up_!’

He wakes with a jerk. His whole body shocks, heart racing and muscles cramping. He sits up in the bed and kicks the blankets off of him. It’s still early in the morning, he can tell by the soft light that’s coming through the blinds. Cool air hits his heated body and he’s glad that he’d thrown his shirt into a corner sometime during the night.

‘Are you okay?’ Carl is sitting on his knees next to him. He looks worried. ‘You were screaming.’

‘I’m fine,’ Daryl answers as he drags a hand over his clammy face. ‘Just a dream.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Thanks for waking me up.’

‘Of course. Want me to get you some water?’

His throat is dry but he can taste bile whenever he swallows. Sometimes he gets so distressed that he throws up after waking from a nightmare. They don’t hit him every night anymore and some aren’t so bad that he’ll scream, or maybe he’s just gotten used to the images. Other nights his brain will cook up new scenarios. That he’s burning his dad’s body and just when the flames catch, his father would open his eyes and burn alive. Eyes perfectly blue, and screaming why his son would do that to him. Other nights it’s not Glenn that gets the bat but his baby boy, wriggling on his soft blankets and staring up at Negan with his big, brown eyes.

It’s like his brain is thinking up worse scenarios because he’s too jaded to be scared of the real events anymore. He thought about them too often, they just leave him feeling empty and cold.

Carl shifts to hop off the bed. ‘I’ll get you some water.’

‘No!’ Daryl flinches at the panic in his own voice. ‘No,’ he repeats, calmer now. ‘It’s fine. Can you – can you just… stay?’

‘’course.’ His brother turns and falls back into the pillows. It’s strange to see him like this, Daryl thinks. He’s completely relaxed, not wearing a shirt, his hat or the bandage to cover the scar on his face. The worry has melted away now that Daryl is properly awake. One hand covers his belly button, the other rest next to his thigh.

Daryl slowly lowers himself to rest beside him and stares up at the ceiling. He doesn’t remember what he’d been dreaming about. The fear is slowly seeping out of his system. He plays with the number 22 and the wedding bands, the silver tinkling in the silence of the early morning. He thinks Carl has just gone back to sleep until his brother rolls to his side to look at him.

‘I think this could really work. Mason seems like a decent guy.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yes. He wants to send some people to the Kingdom to exchange goods and services. They have a guy – several people actually, because he trained them – several people who know how to rig up a windmill. Who know how to get those solar panels working again. We could have power in all communities. What if we have one of those old windmills, right? They were used to, like… squash grain?’

‘Squash grain,’ Daryl repeats dryly.

‘You know what I mean!’

‘ _Grinding_ grain, you idiot,’ Daryl laughs. ‘They tried that at the Kingdom but I don’t think it worked out in the end. To convert it for the power grid, I mean. That’d be cool though. Could it be a watermill for Oceanside?’

‘ _Totally_! I asked him, and he said;’ Carl clears his throat and makes his voice deeper; ‘ _why the fuck not, midget?_ ’

Daryl laughs again, rolling to his side too, ‘he called you that?’

‘Yeah, they have their own Merle here,’ Carl grins.

‘Pfft. He would have called you something way worse.’

‘Probably.’

They listen to the quiet noises of the city around them. A bird lands on the roof, the wood settles, the wind makes a door slam somewhere far away. In the other room, someone gets up and pads around to get dressed. They can’t be sure whether it’s Monica or Paul.

Carl scratches at the sheets between them with his fingernails. ‘You wanna talk about your nightmare now?’

‘Nah. I don’t even remember what it was about, man. Don’t matter,’ Daryl sighs. He closes his eyes and nuzzles his pillow.

‘Okay,’ his brother says softly. ‘You want to talk about something else?’

Daryl opens one eye again and isn’t surprised to see a devilish grin on the other boy’s face.

‘Or _someone_ else?’

‘Shut the fuck up.’

‘Oh, _come on_! You have to give me something! You spent the entire day with him, and you can give me the death glare all you want but you like him.’

Daryl rolls his eyes. ‘When did you turn into such a girl, man? Wanna gossip and paint my nails or something? Braid each other’s hair? Yours is long enough, goddamn, you’re even turning into a girl!’

Carl stretches lazily. ‘Cut it out, man. The; _you’re such a girl_ – thing is getting old. I talk about Enid all the time, you told me about Jayla! Why is talking about Taiwo any different?’

‘Just is, leave me alone, man.’

Carl sits up quickly and gets out of bed. He looks around for his shirt. ‘Whatever, Dare.’ He finds his shirt on the desk and slaps some dust off of it before putting it on. Suddenly he turns back around again. ‘You never talk with me anymore.’

Daryl groans and covers his face with his right arm, ‘ _shut_ _up_.’

‘No, I’m serious! All we do is fuck around, and that’s cool but… I’m your _brother_ and you never talk to me about something that actually fucking _matters_!’

Daryl closes his eyes and feels his lashes brush against his arm. He knows Carl is right. Before the war, they used to share everything together. The good, and the bad. He remembers sitting in his bedroom in Alexandria with him, talking about flipping switches and pulling triggers and eventually stepping out of that room to go to war together. Dark nights waiting in ditches to strike, their arms pressed together, always staying close to stay safe.

But the war ended.

He hasn’t told him anything about the Sanctuary. Nothing about Negan. Can’t talk about Eric, doesn’t want to mention Carol, is afraid of what will happen if he says Glenn’s name.

He’s been trying. Meeting Rick halfway with resentment bleeding out of his heart with every talk, allowing Maggie close enough to be comfort again, needing Beth’s steady presence in his corner.

He didn’t want Carl to know all that. If he’s honest, he just hadn’t wanted Carl to look at him the way Rick does. With the suspicion, that hint of disapproval or even that glimmer of dark approval. His brother has always been his better half. Lighter. He doesn’t want to ruin that.

But he also thinks about what Morgan said to him. That he can’t change. That he doesn’t actually want to.

‘You’re right,’ Daryl blurts out. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just… I dunno, weird to talk about, ya know? When it’s me. But you’re right, I… Taiwo? I think he’s… nice.’

Carl turns to look at him. ‘ _Nice_?’

‘Yeah! He’s nice! Not just to me, or you, but… everyone knows him here, and everyone seems to really like him. That’s…’ Daryl frowns, ‘that’s a good thing, right?’

‘It is,’ Carl runs a hand through his long hair and cocks an eyebrow. ‘Okay. So he’s nice. What else?’

The Dixon sighs, ‘what do you want me to say, man? I think he looks good, he’s nice, yeah – I …’ The words get stuck in his throat.

‘You like him.’

‘I don’t know him.’

‘Really? At all?’ Carl asks as he sits on the bed again. ‘All day and you don’t know anything about him.’

Daryl sets his jaw.

Carl laughs softly. ‘You’re never going to know everything about him, and I know it’s scary, but you don’t have to know his entire family history to know; I like him. Or even just; I think he’s hot.’

A blush lights up Daryl’s cheeks.

‘Repeat after me,’ Carl says, ‘ _I like him_.’

Daryl kicks him.

‘ _I think he’s hot_.’

‘Stop!’

‘ _I think I’d like to stick my tongue down his throat_.’

‘Shut the hell up!’

‘ _I want to come back and get to know him even better because I think he’s nice and I enjoyed myself yesterday_.’

Daryl aims another kick at him.

Carl easily shoves his foot away. ‘Seriously though… You’re making all these excuses and I don’t know why. You can have something good, Dare. I know you’ve been trying – with the New world, and all those plans we have? I know you’re not doing it because you believe it. _I_ believe it. And it’d be for Judith and Hershel, I know that’s why you’re working so hard. But we’re… _we_ are still here, too.’

Daryl sighs and picks at his fingernails. He glances up through his bangs. ‘We ain’t ashes. ‘s what I told Carol before the war.’

‘Why did you stop believing it?’

Daryl shrugs. ‘Good things for good people, right?’

‘You _are_ good people. And you deserve good things.’

He closes his eyes. ‘Told Taiwo I didn’t fight in the war.’

‘Why?’

‘Because he don’t know me. I can be anyone I want.’

Carl sighs and falls onto his back. He stares up at the ceiling. ‘Wish you’d see yourself the way we do, man. I’m always out here, wishing I could be more like you. Shit. Ever since we met, I’ve always thought; if I could be a little more like Dare, just a little-…’ he shakes his head.

‘Ain’t nothing good about me, man.’

‘So you don’t love your family?’ Carl asks skeptically. ‘You didn’t fight for people to be free and not live like slaves, terrified and no longer their own person? People don’t instantly like you wherever you go, whether you like it or not? You didn’t save all our asses that winter before the prison? You’re not funny, you’re not kind. Right. _Right_. Sure.’

‘That ain’t-‘

‘No, you mean you’re a terrible person because you miss Negan when you’re at Hilltop! Because he killed your dad and he broke your brain and now you give a shit about him. And yeah, that’s fucked up, man, but…’ Carl searches for the right words and ends up shrugging. ‘It doesn’t make you the monster you think you are.’

‘Killed people, man,’ Daryl murmurs. ‘And I liked it.’

‘I don’t believe that.’

‘Felt good.’

‘Negan doesn’t think he’s a monster because he liked killing people. Bad people don’t give a shit, and they wouldn’t hide it by telling strangers that they didn’t fight in the war. They’d be gloating about it. You’re a good person, Dare.’ Carl turns his head to look at him. ‘What do you think’s going to happen when he finds out? They’re going to trade with the Kingdom. He will find out about the real Daryl Dixon.’

Daryl chews on his nail. He shrugs.

‘You’re setting it up so it won’t work out. And then it’s going to blow up in your face and you can say; see, I’m a bad person and nothing good ever happens to me.’

‘Plenty good things happen to me.’

‘Fine, whatever. Screw it up from the start then,’ Carl says as he sits up again. ‘I don’t understand why I’m even trying if you aren’t.’

‘I _am_ trying!’

‘Sure. Whatever. I don’t care anymore.’

‘I thought you wanted to talk so fucking bad!’

‘I changed my mind, shut up, you’re stupid.’

Daryl sighs and gets up. He grabs a cigarette out of the crumpled package and has to spin the wheel on his plastic lighter a couple times before the flame erupts. It annoys him. He wants his zippo lighter back. He wonders whether Beth has just forgotten about it, or whether she still believes that he wants to burn the sanctuary and all the Saviors to the ground.

He’s not sure what he wants anymore.

He wants everyone to see that he’s doing better, that his feet are lighter and smile comes easier these days, but he doesn’t want anyone else to know what dragged him down in the first place. It’s not fair, he knows, especially not now that he wants to know their histories. He wants to know everything about Taiwo, wants to get to know Amaka better and thinks that Felix could be his friend, too. He wants to know what happened to Hakeem that has silenced him forever.

Now that he has time to think about it, he supposes that it’s pretty messed up to lie. He’s got a lot to be proud of, he knows that, but shame has run through his veins since the day he was born with his last name and he can’t seem to shake it completely.

It’s not just that, of course. It’s liking Taiwo, and it’s Merle back home, the feeling he had when carrying Lucille on his shoulder and laughing in that church while smearing blood onto his face.

But Maggie still loves him. And despite of how many times he fucks up, Jayla is still his friend, too.

He blows the smoke to the ceiling and walks to the window.

 _We ain’t ashes_ , he thinks as he watches the sun rise.

He’d been talking about Will back then.

He survived that.

He survived the Sanctuary.

He survived the war.

He’s surviving right now; doing his chores and eating his meals and sleeping when he’s supposed to. He’s training and pulling watch duty and watching Hershel while Maggie sleeps. He’s rebuilding the world because that’s what everyone wants.

He’s surviving. That’s all.

And Paul… He sucks on the cigarette and frowns. Paul’s just echoing that feeling, making him feel stupid for wanting anything more, because the guilt after their conversation had almost broken him. Hiding in his brother’s embrace and thinking about how stupid he’d been, how he should have just sat at that table to do his job, scolding himself for doing something as useless as listening to music.

That feeling that everyone is judging him and he can’t even look himself in the eye.

The smoke drifts over the window and disappears. He reaches up and lets his fingertips glide over the glass. He can’t see the sooth but he knows it’s there.

‘I like him,’ he says suddenly. ‘Taiwo – I like him.’

Carl rolls to his belly and lifts himself up to his elbows so he can see his brother. ‘I know.’’

‘Think he’s hot.’

‘He’ll be very happy to hear it, I think.’

‘Yeah.’

Daryl smokes his cigarette until he can smell the burning plastic of the filter. It hovers over the back of his hand. There are other scars there. He hasn’t been ashamed of those in a long time. Survived all that, too.

He ends it on the windowsill.

 

 

 One of Mason’s guards comes to get them for breakfast. The walk over there is tense because Paul studiously ignores Daryl and he tries not to let it get to him. It’s hard to think of it as Paul’s problem, or his own damn fault when there’s guilt gnawing at him. It hurts because he values the scout’s opinion and wants his approval.

Daryl straightens his spine and rolls his shoulders back.

Carl shoots him an encouraging smile.

It’s the last morning they will spend here. They will be back in the Kingdom before nightfall.

He’s excited to go back home and bring the news of a new allied community to Alexandria and Hilltop. There are so many possibilities opening up now. Power in all colonies, trade flourishing, bonds growing stronger with every exchange.

A small smile forms on his face by the thought of Maggie. She’ll be very happy with the news that he’ll bring.

The door opens and Washington D.C. starts to feel more familiar already. There are people who smile at the sight of the Dixon, the only one who hasn’t been hiding away in the office most of the time. One of women even greets him by name and tells them that Amaka and Taiwo are already summoned by Mason for breakfast.

‘Thank you ma’am,’ Daryl nods as they follow the guard who looks equally amused.

‘You’re quick at making friends,’ he says.

‘Helps when they’re friendly people.’

The guard laughs as he runs up the stairs to lead them into the office. Once again the table is set for them. Amaka and Taiwo are already sitting to Mason’s left and right, heads down as they eat and nod along to what their leader is saying. They look up when the group enters.

‘Hey, good morning,’ Daryl smiles.

Taiwo glances at him and turns back to his food.

‘Good morning, Daryl,’ Mason greets warmly. ‘Have a seat.’

Daryl frowns slightly and picks the seat next to Amaka, so he’s across from Taiwo. He sees how his sister kicks him beneath the table but Taiwo just glares at her.

‘Morning, Daryl,’ Amaka greets cheerfully but it sounds fake.

Everyone takes their seat. Conversations erupt and soon everyone is laughing and having a good time. Carl is telling a story about when they were kids and he’d dropped his knife when coming across a walker in one of the abandoned houses, and how his first instinct had been to dive for a coat hanger instead of an actual weapon. He’d been lucky Shane had been there to save his ass and the dramatic retelling of Shane’s lecture has even Paul laughing.

Daryl glances at Taiwo.

The smile fades from the other boy’s face as soon as he notices that Daryl looking at him. He stares at Carl so he won’t have to meet his eye.

Amaka kicks him beneath the table again.

‘Stop it,’ Taiwo hisses.

‘ _You_ stop it!’

‘I do what I want!’

‘No you don’t!’

‘Do you ever have this problem, Monica?’ Mason asks with a loud voice that silences the twins. He gestures at the two teenagers. ‘It’s been years and I still don’t know how to make them get along sometime.’

Monica laughs and shakes her head. ‘They don’t live in my community and Carl’s usually on his best behavior when he visits. That one can be a handful all on his own,’ she points at Daryl, ‘but he’s sweet when he wants to be.’

‘Their nickname is double trouble,’ Paul says. ‘When Maggie or Rick isn’t there to rein them in, there’s no holding them.’

Carl scoffs.

‘Just ‘cause you ain’t got shit to say about us, don’t mean we’re –‘

‘What do you mean, when Maggie or Rick isn’t there?’ Carl asks, voice loud enough to drown Daryl out. ‘Have you ever seen Michonne’s ‘ _what do we think we’re doing’_ \- look? That’s just…’ he glances at his brother.

‘Regret,’ Daryl nods. ‘Just regret everything and start beggin’ because she ain’t havin’ your bullshit. Or Rosita, who’ll just fucking shank you on the spot – no lie,’ he adds when Amaka laughs. ‘That’s our…er…’

‘Crazy aunt. And _Merle_! Oh my God – that’s Daryl’s big brother, he’s –‘

‘Pfft!’ Daryl slouches in his seat, ‘more scared of Aaron’s disappointed look, ya know? The one where he just looks real sad?’ He pouts to imitate the man.

Carl gasps and leans forward. ‘Ezekiel!’

Daryl laughs. ‘Man, Ezekiel is the _worst_. We piss of Ezekiel? He’s all of them combined.’

‘The king of the Kingdom, he really likes Dare,’ Carl supplies to their audience. ‘See? There’s always someone watching our asses when Rick or Maggie aren’t there.’ He thinks for a second. ‘Not that we need it. We’re angels. And we never fight.’

Daryl perks up when he hears Taiwo snort. When he looks, the teenager quickly looks away.

The conversation turns to some trouble they’d gotten in at the prison after Shane had locked them into a cell together to get along after a disagreement about which superhero would win in a fight almost caused Daryl to get physical with his brother. Daryl barely listens. He plays with his food until breakfast is over.

‘Before you leave, I want you to show those items we need,’ Mason tells Paul. ‘They need to be identical or it won’t function properly.’

‘Of course,’ Paul gets up.

Daryl takes a deep breath and then leans forward to catch Taiwo’s eye. ‘Can we talk?’

Taiwo shrugs. ‘It won’t take them long.’

Daryl gets up, ‘neither will this. Come on, man.’

The teenager sighs but gets up too. ‘Fine. Whatever. Let’s go, I guess.’ He heads out of the office and down the staircase. His shoulders are curled in.

When they’re walking through the marketplace, Taiwo makes sure to stay one step ahead of him instead walking side by side like they’d done yesterday. They automatically head to the train at the back of the station, balancing on the small ridge to get to Taiwo’s room.

Daryl frowns as he steps into the room, ‘you mad I’m leavin’ or something?’

‘Nope,’ Taiwo sits down on his bed. ‘Why would I be mad, I don’t even know you.’

Daryl nods and slowly walks around the room. There are some knickknacks on a small table next to Amaka’s bed but he tries not to look. He wouldn’t like it if someone else snooped around his stuff at Hilltop either. He reaches the bookcase filled with music.

‘I hate jazz.’

Taiwo frowns. ‘What?’

‘Jazz? I said it were my favorite, but I hate it. Don’t like the rhythm, makes me nervous. Sometime it sounds like some guy trying to get it on with a saxophone. Don’t like that neither,’ Daryl leans against the book case. ‘I haven’t listened to too much music and people always make fun of the stuff I like, so I was kinda… you caught me off guard. I panicked. Paul likes Jazz. I thought you’d think it be kinda cool if I liked that.’

Taiwo looks confused. ‘Okay…. What do you like then?’

‘Erhm… country, I think. It’s Rick’s fault!’ Daryl says quickly when Taiwo starts to laugh. ‘He’s the one that messed me up with music!’

‘So you were just lying to make yourself sound cooler?’

‘Yeah…’

‘Well, it worked! _Country_ , man?’ Taiwo snorts.

Daryl laughs and wipes a hand over his slowly reddening face. ‘Stop.’  He pushes himself away from the wood and sits down next to the other boy. ‘There’s something else… I told you that I didn’t fight in the war, that I’d just heard things. That… that ain’t true neither. I was right there in it. We fought for months, a year almost. It was crazy. I was there when it ended too, but… sometimes it feels like it’s still going on.’

Taiwo scoots closer to him. Their thighs press together.

‘It doesn’t happen all the time, but – when someone mentions it, or describes what happened, or – just whatever, sometimes I get this…’ he waves vaguely with his hand.

‘This panic attack,’ Taiwo finishes. ‘I know. Amaka told me last night . That’s why I was mad, why the hell are you lying to me, you know? It didn’t make sense to me. I thought you were trying to trick me or something. You had a panic attack in Mason’s office when they were talking about the war. Paul told them how it all went down.’

Daryl shakes his head. ‘He didn’t tell you half of it.’

Taiwo looks at his boots. ‘You gonna tell me the rest then?’

‘Not right now, no. Sorry. I just can’t.’

‘Okay,’ the other boy says easily. ‘But someday?’

Daryl looks at him. ‘Yeah.’

Their shoulders touch when Taiwo leans closer. ‘Deal. That means you have to come back someday to tell me though.’

Daryl smiles. ‘I’ll be back soon.’

‘Good,’ Taiwo reaches out and squeezes his knee before getting up. ‘Now we don’t have much time, but I can’t let you leave here as a country-loving boy who thinks that he’s cool when he listens to Jazz. That’s got to go, man. Here.’ He picks one record and flips it around in his hands. ‘What do you say next time someone asks you what music you like?’

‘What?’

‘Rhythm and blues, baby! Don’t say that though; R ‘nd B! You are going to love R ‘nd .’

‘Oh yeah?’ Daryl leans back on his elbows and smirks.

Taiwo puts the record on and climbs onto the bed next to him. ‘Yeah,’ he says softly as he reaches out to gently push the dark hair behind Daryl’s ear.  ‘I hope so.’

 

 

Mason gives each of them a bottle of water and firm handshake. ‘Is there anything more I can do for you?’

Paul looks pained for a moment. He glances at Taiwo. ‘The meeting point is a patch of grass on the outskirts of the city, not far from where we first met you. Do you think you could take us back? I’m not sure we’d find the way as quickly otherwise.’

Daryl frowns. Both him and Paul could find their way back blindfolded.

Taiwo perks up. ‘Yes! Of course.’

Mason looks from Taiwo to Daryl and gives Paul a soft smile. ‘Very well,’ he allows. He turns back to Taiwo. ‘Go get a radio and meet them at the gate. You will return _immediately_ afterwards.’

‘Yes, I’ll-‘

‘And your sister is coming, too.’

Taiwo slumps and groans, ‘I can go by myself! It’s not that far and-‘

‘Deal or no deal?’ Mason holds out his hand.

Taiwo mutters something under his breath but shakes the man’s hand. He heads out and turns on the threshold. ‘Daryl, wanna come?’

‘Oh, he wanna-‘ Carl starts but Daryl elbows him in the side.

‘Yeah, sure,’ he follows Taiwo. When he looks back at the door, Paul gives him a small, apologetic smile.

 

 

There’s an escort from the Kingdom waiting for them at the meeting point. Proud banners fly in the wind; a roaring tiger against the blue sky. Nervous horses step in tight circles, neighing whenever a walker stumbles towards them but the archers take care of them easily.

The guards are happy to see them. Relief lights up their faces when they see Monica unharmed and a couple jump down to greet Daryl warmly. A horse is led forward by a woman who looks very happy to be able to pass the reins over.

‘Hey girl,’ Daryl laughs when Khamsin pretends she doesn’t know who he is. ‘Don’t do me like that. I didn’t _leave_ you. I always come back, huh? _Huh_?’

She steps closer and lets him pet her warm neck even though she looks away.

‘Drama queen,’ Daryl mutters affectionately. ‘Got someone I want you to meet.’

Taiwo is standing on the edge of his circle. His hands are in the pockets of his jeans and for the first time, he looks unsure. There are so many new faces and new names, people with guns and bows within range. Even Amaka, usually the first to speak, is quiet.

‘Most of them are from the Kingdom,’ Daryl explains, ‘but the ones carrying guns are from Alexandria. They’re Carl’s escort, basically.’

Taiwo nods his understanding. His smile breaks through. ‘Wow, is that your horse? Carl wasn’t lying; she’s beautiful.’

‘Yeah, she is,’ Daryl beams. ‘Her name is Khamsin. She’s named after-‘

‘After the hot, dry wind in North Africa,’ the teenager says. He sounds surprised. ‘I know it. Our dad used to tell stories about how it would cover entire cities in desert sand.’

Behind him, Paul gets on his own horse. He clears his throat. ‘Daryl, time to say goodbye.’ He nods at the twins. ‘Thank you for your help. We’ll see each other soon, I’m sure.’ He nods to Monica, ‘lead the way.’

She glances at Daryl, who hasn’t mounted his horse yet.

‘He’ll catch up,’ Paul says softly. ‘Let’s go.’

Daryl watches how the group starts moving. Carl had already said his goodbye’s earlier, hugging Amaka and shaking Taiwo’s hand before clambering onto the back of his horse. He’s not a great rider, though Michonne is teaching him how to become better.

‘Fastest horse in the Kingdom, right?’ Taiwo smiles.

‘Yeah,’ Daryl looks at his boots and then glances up, ‘I should get going though. Can’t get too far behind.’

‘Yeah, of course.’

Amaka clears her throat and darts forward to give Daryl a hug. ‘See you soon, Daryl. It was really nice meeting you. _And_ ,’ she rummages around in the messenger bag she’s wearing, ‘I have something of yours.’ She holds it out to him.

It’s his black baseball cap.

‘Thank you,’ Daryl breathes as he takes it.

‘You seemed pretty attached to it, so; _tadaa_. You’re welcome.’ She gives him one last smile before sauntering away, dragging her feet to wait until her twin joins her but giving them some sense of privacy by looking away.

‘You’ll come back soon, right? There’s more cool stuff I can show you in the city.’

‘Yeah… real soon.’

‘Okay,’ Taiwo wobbles on the balls of his feet. ‘So… bye?’

Daryl bites on his lip, glances up through his bangs and then quickly steps forward. He kisses the boy’s cheek. ‘Bye.’

 

 

When he rejoins the group, his cheeks are still burning.

Carl sniggers at the sight of him and out of the corner of his eye, Daryl can see that Paul is smiling, too.

 

 


	24. Whatever is next

 

* * *

 

 

 

The young girl had wanted to come to Alexandria to visit her big brother and the King had granted his permission for the journey. Now, Daryl wishes he hadn’t. She’s standing in the middle of the road with her hands covering her mouth. Tears are streaming down her face. Her screams are barely muffled.

There are walkers everywhere. A small herd in front of them, another behind them, closing them in.

There are too many people on foot to escape into the forest in time.

Daryl takes a deep breath and then glides out of his saddle. He grabs the girl by her upper arm and drags her towards Khamsin. ‘You know how to ride?’

The girl nods but reaches for one of the guards who had been keeping an eye on her all day. She’s crying her name but the guard is busy getting the other soldiers organized. She glances at the child, ‘listen to Dixon, Maria!’

‘Maria?’ Daryl asks, ‘I’m gonna lift you up and you’re gonna keep Khamsin safe for me, right? Gonna take her to Alexandria, to your brother. Don’t worry, she knows the way.’ With a grunt, he lifts the girl up. He doesn’t have time to adjust the stirrups. ‘Here,’ he reaches into one of the saddlebags to grab his spare knife. ‘Aim for their…?’

‘Heads,’ Maria sobs as she takes the knife.

At least her grip is good, Daryl thinks numbly. He turns to see that Carl is helping an older guy onto his own horse. Other guards are switching with people who can’t fight, too.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Scouts had returned with the message that all roads were clear, from here until Alexandria at least. Daryl glances at one of the scouts and frowns when he sees that he’s not getting off his horse.

‘Dare!’ Carl screams, pulling his gun and looking at the herds that are closing in.

Daryl runs to the scout and pulls at the rein to halt his horse. ‘Why?’

The scout opens and closes his mouth but no words come out.

‘These are your people!’ Daryl shouts.

‘Not all of them,’ the scout says. He looks to his right.

Daryl follows his gaze.

Negan. Negan is standing between two soldiers, his hands bound in front of him. The black hair is a wild mess, just like his beard, but the brown eyes are as piercing and calculating as ever. He eyes the two herds and seems to ask the soldier for a weapon but doesn’t get any.

‘You fucking asshole,’ Daryl breathes while looking back up at the scout, ‘you will get us all killed.’

‘I will get them out,’ the scout gestures to the people on horses. ‘I will lead them to Alexandria. You can all fight. Just leave him! Nobody has to know, nobody will even think that-‘

‘Anything happens to these people and I’ll find you,’ Daryl hisses. ‘I’ll find you and I’ll skin you alive, you motherfucker.’ He propels himself forward, ducking past the horses to get to his brother. ‘We need to go into the woods.’

‘We can cut through and-‘

‘There’s too many, Carl! We have to pick them off now or we won’t make it.’

‘Okay,’ Carl closes his eyes for a moment and then sets his jaw. He turns around and gestures to the scout, ‘go! _Go_! Everyone else with me. We have to stick together. Daryl, take point.’

‘Archers,’ Daryl calls as he steps forward and loads his bow. Four others come running towards him. He’s the only one with a crossbow and picks off a couple before the rest can start firing. They take slow steps backwards when the walkers come too near.

‘Grab your knife,’ Paul says as he appears beside the youngest Dixon. ‘Stick with Carl. Renee,’ he calls out, alerting one of the other archers, ‘you’re with me.’

It’s one of the least experienced soldiers, one who hadn’t even fought in the war. He looks scared as he nods at Paul and slinks to his side, hands shaking as he pulls his knife out.

Daryl swings his bow onto his back and keeps walking backwards. ‘Use the ditch, it’s deep. Sides are steep. They’ll fall. Careful now.’ He jumps down and keeps an eye on the soldiers.

Carl steps up beside him. ‘They’re spreading out,’ he mutters as he glances at their left and right.

Daryl takes his gun out and shoots the walker heading for one of the soldiers. ‘Not anymore,’ he puts the gun back. ‘You with me?’

‘Yes,’ Carl says as he takes his knife out. ‘I am.’

The fight is long and bloody. It’s a good thing that they’ve been training almost all their lives together, side by side. That they know by heart that Carl can’t make that kick and Daryl won’t be quick enough with his side-step so they switch seamlessly. That a short whistle has Carl vaulting Daryl’s back to kick a walker away, and another has Daryl blindly jabbing his knife backwards to save Carl’s life.

There’s barely any time to see how anyone else is doing. Someone is screaming in the forest, far away, and another is yelling far closer. Someone runs past the two teenagers, scrambling to get out of the ditch when the bodies start to pile up. Sometimes Daryl sees a flash of Paul, who’s wielding two knifes that are dripping with blood.

‘Left,’ Carl pants.

‘Yeah,’ Daryl ends that walker and then crawls out of the ditch, reaching back to grab Carl’s sweaty hand and yank him up too. He’s glad that his brother grabs his shoulder to hold him up, both of them stumbling into the forest. They weave through the trees, heading towards Alexandria but they keep getting cut off.

One walker manages to grab Daryl’s leg.

He falls. His wrists scream as he catches himself. For a couple of seconds, he breathes the musty smell of the earth in. Dead leaves crunch beneath his fingers, sweat drips onto the already moist dirt. He can feel the walker clawing at his leg, can almost feel the teeth sinking into his skin, and he wants to roll around to kick it away but he can’t and -

But it’s Carl who steps protectively over him, jabbing a walker in the eye before jumping ahead, urging him back to his feet with a whispered ‘ _hurry_!’

With a grunt, he propels himself forward again, after his brother. His heart beats easier when he spots Paul waiting for them a little ways ahead. The scout is leaning on his own knees, drenched in sweat and panting, but seemingly unharmed. Relief washes over his face when he sees the two of them.

‘Everyone okay?’ Carl pants.

‘Yes. The ones on horses got away – barely, but I think they made it in time. The rest is up ahead. If we keep going, we’ll outrun the walkers that are left and lose them in the woods. We should-‘

Screaming erupts on their left. They move as one; sprinting towards the sound. Paul is fastest, jumping over low bushes and ducking under braches with grace, but Daryl is but half a step behind him. Together, they jump over the last fallen tree to land in a small clearing.

Two guards are struggling with a walker. It’s on one of them, straddling him and trying to bite his face, but the guard is barely keeping it at bay. Their hands rip away layers of skin whenever they try to push or pull. They seem to have lost their weapons.

Paul darts forward to help but Daryl scans the ground and takes off running in the other direction.

‘Dare!’ Carl screams but he heads over to Paul to help the guard kick the body aside and help their friend up. ‘ _Dare_!’

He runs down a small path and ignores his brother. It doesn’t take him long to stop running, his speed decreasing until he’s walking leisurely.

There’s a man fighting a walker up ahead. He’s rolling around, trying to get away from the rotting creature, kicking and cursing and desperately trying to push it away but the walker grabs his shoulders and hoists itself closer.

Daryl grabs his bow and loads it. He checks the sight, hums a tune and then looks up.

The man is digging his nails into the chin of the walker in a desperate attempt to keep the teeth at a distance.

Daryl lines the shot up and shoots just before the teeth scrape over skin. He whistles as he walks up to the man, looking down at him with contempt in his eyes. He cocks his head to the side. ‘Pissing our pants yet? Boy, do I have a feeling we’re gettin’ close.’

‘Goddamit, killer,’ Negan breathes with his eyes closed, hands shaking as he tries to push the walker off of him. It’s not easy because of his bound hands.

‘You saw the guards almost gettin’ eaten and you thought; perfect time for a goddamn stroll. I should have taken my time. Just two seconds longer.’ Daryl smirks as he reloads his bow and takes aim again. ‘This remind you of something now? Carl ain’t here this time. Paul ain’t here. Just us. Any last words?’ He stares down the sight.

Negan laughs and looks up at him. ‘My savior. Thank you, little prince.’

‘Not what I meant, man!’

Negan shakes his head and holds his hands out. ‘Help your old man up.’

‘You’re a fucking asshole,’ Daryl mutters but he lowers the bow and grabs Negan’s bound hands, yanking him to his feet. ‘Anything had happened to them, I’d have gutted you like a pig.’

’Now hold your goddamn horses, killer. They told me to run. I was just following orders.’

‘So were your men and I killed them all the same,’ Daryl hisses. ‘Cut it with the bullshit.’

Negan hums. He looks around the forest. ‘Beautiful fucking day for a stroll, don’t you think? There ain’t nothing better than sniffing some goddamn flowers, spitting death in the face and getting to see that gorgeous glower on Rick’s mug again.’ He flashes Daryl a grin. ‘I’ve missed him. And you know what? He missed me too!’

Daryl huffs.

‘You don’t think so?’ Negan bats his eyelashes. ‘He invited me to live with him!’

‘He told his sons to drag our pathetic ass to a proper prison, there’s a difference, you fucking asshole. Stop talking to me.’

‘ _Stop talking to me_ ,’ Negan parrots before laughing and nudging the teenager with his elbow.

Daryl punches his arm.

‘Holy fuckity fuck! Jesus fucking Christ that hurts.’ The man frowns and tries to rub his arm but can’t due to his bound hands.

‘I’ll ask Rick to chop it off for you if it hurts that bad. Are you a southpaw, Negan?’

‘Is it throwback Thursday?’ Negan asks, sounding annoyed. ‘You’re in a great mood, what the fuck happened? You got laid or something?’ He bursts out laughing when Daryl immediately blushes.

‘No,’ Daryl mumbles and then scowls, ‘I mean; maybe! Shut the fuck up man, I’m serious!’ He punches him again. ‘I hate you. You suck.’ But he can’t help but smile when Negan slumps against a tree laughing.

The others appear between the trees. They’re all covered in blood, sweat and mud but everyone seems unharmed. Carl scowls darkly at the laughing man but ignores him in favor of checking on his brother. They grin at each other and then hug tightly, breathing each other in and relaxing into the embrace.

‘We have to find the others,’ Carl mutters into his shoulder.

‘We will,’ Daryl promises.

They pull apart and Carl immediately whistles sharply, leading the way home like Rick would have done, eyes scanning the woods to try and find the rest of their group, or spot more walkers.

Negan rolls his eyes but follows him, making a snide comment about watching his right since he won’t be able to see a walker coming with that crater on his face. Carl doesn’t respond but Daryl aims a mean kick at Negan’s left foot. It’s not enough to make him fall, but enough to send a message.

The two guards follow and then Paul tries to slip past Daryl.

‘Hey,’ his hand shoots out to curl around the scout’s wrist. ‘I - … can we talk – in Alexandria, I mean?’

Paul’s eyes scan their surroundings. He won’t look at him. ‘Sure.’

‘Okay.’ Daryl bites on the inside of his cheek. ‘Glad you’re okay. Renee bailed?’

‘He got scared – overwhelmed. He just ran. I couldn’t follow, there were too many walkers and…’ Paul looks down at his boots and fidgets with his gloves. ‘You and Carl were still down there.’

Daryl smiles. ‘We’ll find him. Thank you.’

‘Yeah...’ Paul quickly walks away to catch up with the group.

 

 

Four hours later, they walk down a familiar road. Car wrecks have been placed in strategic spots so no vehicle can slam into the large, metal gate to force their way inside. Towers have been rigged up on either side of the gate. The glint of light bouncing off glass tells Daryl that a sniper is perched in both of them.

A sense of relief causes his shoulders to slump and head to suddenly feel heavy. He feels just how tired he is now, how much his feet and wrists hurt, how the blood has soaked his clothing so it’s now chafing him. There’s sweat dripping down his sideburns and temples. He glances at Carl, who is walking beside him.

His brother looks drained. He’s pale and his skin glistens with sweat, feet dragging.

The rest is following them. They’ve found every soldier, the ones still fighting and the ones hiding up in trees, glad that most had stuck together and were carefully making their way to Alexandria. They found them all and brought them home.

The gates open as soon as they appear around the corner.

Rick comes running out. One hand on his gun and eyes on his son. Michonne is hot on his heels, her katana on her back and a gun strapped to her thigh; a signature of Alexandria.

‘You okay?’ Rick pants as he puts a hand on his son’s shoulder, squeezing tightly.

‘We’re fine,’ Carl nods but he already moves past his father to get to Michonne, hugging her tightly and burying himself in her embrace.

Rick moves on too, folding Daryl in his arms, pulling him into a hug. One arm around his shoulders, one hand taking the cap off before burying in the dark hair.

Daryl leans into him. He can feel rough lips kiss his temple and sighs, arms coming up around the man’s waist. ‘We’re okay. We’re okay.’

‘Thank God,’ Rick whispers. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked you to-‘

‘We did it,’ Daryl interrupts. ‘We did it and we’re fine. You _can_ ask that of us now.’ He laughs and buries his face in the man’s neck, ‘but we still need a hug afterwards ‘cause _goddamn_!’

Rick laughs and hugs him that much tighter. ‘Daryl Dixon asking for a hug…’

‘Are the others here? There was a girl, Maria, is she-‘

‘Arrived first, safe and sound. Khamsin deserves a treat,’ Rick says as they pull apart. ‘They’re all here. How did you get split up? The guard said there was some chaos, Maria said there were walkers, but…’

‘That guard’s head should be on a fucking spike by now, Ricky boy,’ Negan comments. ‘Almost got our boys killed today. What’re you gonna do about that, huh? Or do you need me to step in?’ The man comes closer and holds his hands out. ‘Cut me loose and I’ll solve this goddamn problem _real_ quick.’

Rick glances at him. ‘What’s he talking about?’

Daryl shakes his head. ‘At least I had the fucking decency to try and kill him myself, they decided to throw two herds our way. Let them deal with it. They told us we could make it, to just leave him behind and nobody would ask any questions.’

The blue eyes turn dark.

Daryl knows that look. He reaches out and puts a hand on Rick’s shoulder. ‘Let Ezekiel deal with them.’

‘You could have been killed!’

‘Throw them into a cell and take them back next time you go. They’re Ezekiel’s people. Let’s go inside.’ He brushes past Rick to head back, only to be stopped by Michonne. She looks at him quizzically, one gloved hand cupping his cheek.

She kisses his forehead.

He smiles. ‘Everything okay here?’

‘Everything’s fine.’

‘I won’t stay long, I want to go home,’ he warns.

‘I’m sure Maggie is waiting for you, but you need to get some rest. You look dead on your feet.’

Daryl laughs softly before slinging his arm over his brother’s shoulder and heading into Alexandria. ‘Not dead yet.’

 

 

It feels strange to walk through Alexandria. Most of the burned-out buildings have been torn down. There are strangers living in Merle’s house now. The wall has been moved in the anticipation of an expansion. The church is gone. Right in the center of town now stands a big watchtower, rigged up by some of the builders from the Kingdom. A solid structure of brick and metal.

He wanders through the beginnings of a lush garden and notes that they’re going to need some of Hilltop’s resources to make it better. He plucks a small apple from a tree and munches on it, savoring the sweet taste.

The news of a new community has been received with elation. He smiles at the thought of Carl sitting at the head of the table, laying out all their plans and Rick beaming with pride at him. His own swell of pride when Carl could answer all of Michonne’s questions, just like he’d answered Ezekiel’s.

A strange noise lures him over to the newly build barn on the other side of the farm. It’s quite big even though Alexandria doesn’t have any horses. One of the boxes however had a plaque on the door with Khamsin’s name expertly carved into the wood. The strange sounds are two rhythmic thumps and then a long pause before starting over again.

When he rounds the last corner, he sees what’s the cause of it.

It’s Paul. He’s throwing his knives into a beam on the side of the barn. The long hair has been tied in a ponytail and the long coat has been left in Rick’s living room. The sleeves of his white shirt have been rolled up. There’s a frown on his face. He looks tired.

Daryl waits until the last knife leaves the man’s hand before walking to the side and sitting down on a bale of hay. ‘Still training?’

‘Can’t sleep,’ Paul says as he wrenches the weapons out of the wood. He stays there for a moment, fingertips touching the marks.

‘Those knives go through and hit Khamsin in the ass? I’ll fucking bury you.’

‘Hmm. You beat Morgan up for endangering her, and those two guards get to go home?’ Paul puts his knives away. ‘They did worse than putting a horse at risk today.’

Daryl scoffs. ‘You think Ezekiel’s gonna go easy on them when he knows they endangered a bunch of his kids? Nah. They’re gonna pay for what they’ve done. No need for me to deal it out, or they’d be fucking dead by now.’ He rummages through his pockets and lights a cigarette. The blue eyes narrow. ‘The hell is wrong? Thought y’all wanted me to be a goddamn pacifist.’

Paul huffs out a breath of laughter. ‘Yeah. It was good of you – unexpected, but good. Maggie will be proud. You didn’t even kill Negan even though you had the shot.’

‘I don’t think she’d have minded me taking that shot,’ he takes a drag and let the smoke roll over his lip. ‘Wouldn’t like the blood on my hands none, but… I dunno. Rick wanted him alive.’ He frowns and rubs at some dirt that’s on his boot. ‘Don’t really understand why he wants him here. He was fine where he were.’

Paul doesn’t answer.

Daryl smokes his cigarette and cleans his boots as best as he can. He keeps glancing up at the other man. There are nerves swarming in the pit of his stomach. The fact that Paul doesn’t even want to look at him makes him sick.

It doesn’t look like Paul will break the ice first. He just stands there, seemingly lost in thought. One hand resting against the beam of the barn, pale fingers tracing the scars he’d made in the wood.

‘Ain’t gonna apologize.’

It’s abrupt enough to force Paul’s attention to him. The shoulders tense and fingertips still. He turns his head only slightly to signal that he’s listening. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I didn’t do nothing wrong. If you’re waiting on an apology, you’re gonna be waiting for a long ass time. You didn’t need me at that table. I made friends, I know more about that damn community than you, Carl and Monica combined. May not know how much gas they have, or how many solar panels they can trade, but I know the people. How many kids there are, how it all started. I know that. And it matters.’ He ends his cigarette. ‘Weren’t wasting nobodies time.’

Paul turns around. He looks sad.

‘And I don’t give a shit what you think about Taiwo. That ain’t no business of yours.’

‘You’re right,’ Paul says softly. ‘I’m sorry about what I said.’

‘Yeah, well…’ Daryl wipes his nose on his shoulder. ‘Whatever.’

‘He seems nice.’

The teenager hums.

‘I wish he wasn’t that handsome.’

Daryl barks out a laugh and looks up at his friend, who is smiling.

Paul walks over to him, fingertips now tracing the sharp cheekbones before running his fingers through the dark, shaggy hair. He scratches the back of Daryl’s neck and laughs softly when the man hums his appreciation. ‘Does that mean I’m forgiven?’

‘Nah, you’re a piece of shit,’ Daryl closes his eyes and melts into the touch. He hooks his hands around the back of Paul’s knees, pulling him closer. His forehead comes to rest against the man’s abdomen. ‘Maybe in five minutes if you keep this up.’

Paul pulls at his ear.

‘Auch! Stop it. One more minute then,’ he blindly searches for Paul’s hand and places it back in his hair. He hums when Paul runs his fingers through it again. ‘Lemme tell you; we’re gonna be some weird ass _friends_.’

He can feel Paul laugh.

The man leans down and kisses the crown of his head. ‘I’ll take it. Let’s get inside. You need to rest.’

‘You say that like I’m the only one who looks like a walker right now,’ he gets up. ‘You look exhausted.’

‘Well, I’m planning on staying home for a while to rest up,’ Paul says with a tilt of his head. ‘I’m not running back to Washington to see my boyfriend.’

Daryl hums and heads towards Rick house. ‘He ain’t my boyfriend.’ He spins around and walks backwards, grinning at Paul, ‘ _yet_.’

The scout shakes his head and starts walking to Rosita’s house. ‘Good night, Daryl.’

 

 

Rick feeds Khamsin an apple slice while they wait for Paul to get his horse saddled and ready to go. Daryl had hurried, eager to get back to Hilltop Colony again to see both of his brothers and Maggie. It had been nice to stop at Alexandria, waking up to Judith jumping onto the bed and Michonne’s laughter echoing down the corridors of the large house. Reading a comic with Carl while sharing a plate like old times, but now it’s time to go.

‘Do you like it?’ Rick asks suddenly, nodding at his community.

‘Yeah, ‘course,’ Daryl murmurs as his hand twists in Khamsin’s reins. ‘’s just weird being back here, you know? Looks good though. Bigger.’

‘Yeah, your brother helped rig up the new wall. The old one was… too heavily damaged,’ Rick strokes Khamsin between the eyes. ‘We’ve been discussing what should happen to the memorial wall. The list with the names. I’m not sure what to do. We could just put the names back on, but…’

‘Most of them won’t even know who the hell they were. Jessie, Sam ‘nd Ron? Pfft. Deanna? Only us, man. We remember.’

‘I know,’ Rick says softly. He looks at the teenager. ‘I was hoping you would draw them, on the walls. That way we won’t forget their faces, and we can tell people our story. Not just of Alexandria.’ He puts his hand on Daryl’s shoulder. ‘But of us. All of _us_.’

‘You want me to paint everything from Atlanta to Alexandria?’

‘Everyone.’ He squeezes. ‘Just think about it.’

‘Sure. ‘s one crazy story man.’

‘It is.’

Daryl scans the new community. He scratches the back of his neck and then points to where the new gardens are growing. ‘Maybe till there, ya know? That’s now. Leave room for whatever is next.’

 

 

It turns out that Merle is away on patrol and Beth is helping Alex collect some medicinal herbs. Neither of them is expected to return before nightfall. Of course Dante is there to take Khamsin, and Carson embraces Paul before telling them both that Maggie is in Barrington House.

The guards wave and whistle and the farmers raise their hands. The blacksmith pauses his work for a second to greet them and the kitchen hands jump up with questions about what they want to eat and drink. It’s still early in the morning, they left at daybreak.

Daryl feels more tired than he’d done yesterday. His muscles ache from the fight. His limbs feel heavy as he follows Paul up the small set of stairs and into the hall, to the meeting room. He perks up at the sound of Maggie’s voice.

Everyone is gathered around the table. Maggie sits at the head, Aaron, who has Hershel in his lap, on her right hand. They’re listening to one of the guards, who is talking about where the patrols will be today, which areas will be covered. He falls silent as soon as Paul appears in the doorway.

Maggie stands up. ‘Jesus…’

Paul smiles. ‘Our world has become so much bigger. We’ve made some friends out there,’ he laughs when Maggie hurries towards him, pulling him into a tight embrace.

‘Thank God,’ she breathes. ‘Are you-‘

‘Everyone’s fine,’ Paul assures her. ‘And we have Daryl to thank for-‘

She steps past him and stops listening, ‘Dare, are you – oh my God.’

‘Just tired, not my blood,’ Daryl says quickly, gesturing to his clothes. ‘We’re fine and we found the guy and it was the same one that we- _oof_!’ he catches Maggie and holds her as she cries. ‘What’s wrong? What happened? Is Hershel-‘

‘Don’t leave like that again,’ Maggie cries. ‘Not when we’re fighting. You don’t leave when we’re fighting.’

‘ _You_ kicked _me_ out!’ Daryl laughs and he rubs his hand over her back.

‘Don’t be stupid.’

‘You totally did!’

‘Shut up.’

‘Yes, ma’am, sorry ma’am.’

Maggie pinches his side.

‘Sorry mom,’ Daryl mutters and then hugs her tightly. ‘Come on, stop your cryin’, we got a lot to tell ya. I thought all that cryin’ business was a pregnant thing.’

‘You want to get kicked out again?’ she asks with tears still on her cheeks, but she’s laughing when she pulls back.

‘Just sayin’,’ Daryl grins. He walks to Aaron and claps the man on his shoulder before gesturing to him. Aaron smiles and hands the baby over. ‘Hey,’ Daryl gushes, ‘hey Kiss. Yeah, you know – are you laughing at me? Huh? Hey!’ He kisses the child. ‘You think my face is funny or something? Maggie’s gonna kick us both for being rude little shits. Yeah!’

‘Stop corrupting my child please.’

‘He fucking started it.’ Daryl sits down in the windowsill behind her chair and lets Hershel play with the hangers of his necklaces.

Paul takes his seat on Maggie’s left hand and starts to tell about the stranger in the woods, how they’d managed to track them all the way to Washington D.C. About the plan and Daryl’s capture, about Amaka and him kneeling in front of Mason. The strange community, the empty watchtowers and buildings, and then the tunnels and trains and tracks. Solar panels, power, trade.

The New World, miles bigger now and filled with so many new faces.

‘Vaccines,’ Maggie breathes. ‘For every child? For Hershel, Judith? The others at the Kingdom?’

‘Yes.’

She looks stunned. ‘Why?’

Paul smiles. ‘Because everyone likes Daryl Dixon.’

Daryl rolls his eyes. ‘Shut up. It ain’t going to be cheap, but we can get it. Might cost Alexandria some weapons, horses maybe. Ezekiel is thinking about it – that would go a long way. We should send Beth soon.’

Maggie frowns. ‘Beth? Maybe Carson would be-‘

‘Nah, Beth. I’ll go with her.’

Paul hides his smile behind his hand.

‘To err… protect her.’

Maggie lifts an eyebrow. ‘Protect her?’

‘Guide her – bring her there – I mean… I’m gonna show the way. Because it’s – like, hard to find and shit.’

Paul bites on his hand to stifle his laughter.

Daryl glares at him.

Maggie shifts in her seat to see her son better. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Nothing! Nothing. Hershel is tired, I’m going to put him in his crib, okay? Okay.’ He quickly gets up.

‘It’s nothing,’ Paul assures Maggie before the teenager can flee. ‘He’s just excited about the new place and wants to explore it. There are multiple locations, we’ve only seen one.’

Daryl shoots him a grateful smile behind Maggie’s back. ‘Yeah, there’s like a bunch of tunnels, and they got people they call runners – they’re the ones sending messages back and forth between the locations. And they sleep in the trains! It’s awesome.’

‘Okay,’ Maggie stands to kiss her youngest son’s hair. ‘Put him down for a nap and then clean up and take one yourself. You look terrible, Dare.’ She steps closer to him and lowers her voice. ‘We’ll talk later about… what happened between us, okay? She strokes his cheek. ‘I’m glad you’re back.’

‘Me too. Wake me up in an hour?’

‘Three. And he will do that just fine,’ she nods at Hershel. ‘Go.’

 

 

Two hours later, she’s sitting on their bed.

Daryl is sound asleep on top of the covers. He’s wearing a faded pair of boxer shorts and his jewelry, face buried in the soft pillows. Hair drying and a wild mess of curls right now. Scars riddle his entire body. Slash marks from a belt, marks from fights and the memory of his own bolt piercing his skin. Burn marks that make her sick and scratches that could have been made by dull fingernails.

She reaches out and brushes the hair out of his young face.

He’s sleeping peacefully at last.

‘I love you,’ she whispers and the sound doesn’t wake him.

She looks over to the crib where her other son is sleeping just as peacefully. There are toys standing in the windowsill. Wooden cars, rattles and puzzles. All new to her and placed there with great care. Between them, there’s a single picture frame.

Daryl, looking so much younger, sitting on Glenn’s back with a marker in his hand. Both of them laughing and so, so happy together.

 

 


	25. A great start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for not responding to the comments. Life has been crazy. I will do so tomorrow. They mean the world to me. <3

 

* * *

 

 

‘Why is nothing ever clean in this fucking closet? Seriously, Mags, what the hell?’

Maggie is sitting on their bed with her back against the headrest. Hershel is curled up against her chest, finally quiet now that he’s being fed. The small tuft of black hair stark against his mother’s pale skin. She looks up from one son to the other.

Daryl is rooting through the closet. There are piles of shirts, jeans, flannels and jackets around him. They could belong to either of them. There’s one shelf specifically for him, it only holds a handful of boxer shorts. He holds up a pair of jeans to inspect it and throws it back in after deciding they’re probably hers.

‘Because I’m leading a community, raising a baby and trying to handle a crazy teenager, that’s why.’

Daryl wrinkles his nose as he holds up a shirt with faded bloodstains. ‘I ain’t crazy. And I ain’t wearing this!’

‘You wore that last week.’

‘I ain’t wearing this _no more_.’ Daryl gets up and pulls a pair of jeans on. The back pocket has been ripped off and there’s a tear on his left knee, but it seems pretty clean. It sort of fits. ‘What the hell did Carol always say at Alexandria? Keeping up appearances.’

‘So you’re going to make her casserole tonight?’

The teenager pauses while reaching for a black wife-beater. ’Well… no. She never showed me how to do it.’ He’s silent for a moment, fingers twisting in the fabric. Then he looks up warily. ‘You think I’m lazy?’

Maggie rolls her eyes. ‘No, Daryl. Nobody thinks you’re lazy because you don’t know how to make a casserole. And those bloodstains won’t come out, no matter how many times you scrub them so don’t bother with laundry. They’re clean – they just don’t look it. Dante has been helping out.’

‘Pfft,’ he pulls the shirt over his head. ‘Don’t you get sweet on that guy too. Khamsin already loves him more than me most of the time, it’s disgusting. Stealin’ my girl like that. He made her apple treats. That’s cheating.’

  ‘I won’t,’ she says softly as she strokes her son’s chubby cheek. Wide brown eyes stare back at her. She smiles and looks up again. ‘Why are you trying on our entire wardrobe?’

‘Because walking around naked is weird. This doesn’t even fit. Is this yours? What the fuck?’ He has a jacket on but the sleeves are too short and he can’t close it.

‘You grew a lot. You wore that when you came back from the Sanctuary,’ Maggie says with a sigh. ‘It’s warmer than your leather jacket. You were cold all the time.’

‘I remember now,’ Daryl mutters and then throws the jacket into a corner so he can give it back to the distribution point. He stomps his black boots on and looks in the mirror. There are scars peeking out from under his shirt. The redness has faded from them. They seem silver on his bronzed skin. The shirt is a little tighter than the white one he’d been wearing, probably because Maggie had gotten him the clothes when he’d just arrived at Hilltop. He hadn’t recovered yet, nor had he been subjected to Rosita’s ruthless training schedule.

He puts the baseball cap back on and kicks the clothes back into the closet. When he turns around, Maggie gives him a pointed look.

‘I’ll pick them up later.’

‘You’ll pick them up now, and sort what you don’t need anymore. Someone else can use it.’

With a grumble, he starts sorting his clothes. There are a lot of items that don’t fit anymore. Jeans are too short, shirts too tight, jackets that won’t close now. There aren’t many items left when he’s done. He shoves his socks and underwear onto the shelf but hangs up the rest.

‘Maybe you and Beth can pick up some new clothes in Washington,’ Maggie offers. ‘If you want them. But this looks good on you. Does your old jacket still fit?’

‘Barely, but yeah, it’s fine,’ Daryl hangs the said jacket on a hook inside the closet. ‘I’ll take the rest to distribution later.’ He sits down on the bed beside her and reaches out to pluck Hershel’s hair into the shape of a Mohawk.

‘Why are you suddenly interested in keeping up appearances? You told everyone who tried to get you into a clean shirt that you’d shank them.’

The teenager’s hand falls away. He pulls his feet up and hugs his own legs, his head rest against his knees. He looks at the baby who smiles at him, small hands reaching out for his big brother. Daryl lets him grab hold of his pinky. ‘Don’t chew on it,’ he warns, wriggling his pinky to make the baby laugh again.

‘Here,’ Maggie transfers him to his lap. She runs a soothing hand over his back, tickling him at the nape of his neck.

Daryl smiles at her and gently picks Hershel up, curling him against his chest and letting the baby hold onto his pinky. They sit there for a while in silence. Then he sighs. ‘I didn’t believe it when we arrived at Alexandria – that it ever could be normal, right? I lied during the interview with Deanna. If she’d had known the truth about everything I’d done, she probably wouldn’t have let us stay. I didn’t really want to stay. I thought it was fake. A place like that? I thought it didn’t belong in the New World. It wouldn’t last.’

Maggie nods.

‘I lied because I wanted Judith to be safe. Carl ‘nd Beth, - you guys. Everyone. It all went to hell,’ he says softly, ‘but it was good while it lasted. Everything happened and…’ he shakes his head. ‘When it was over, Carl started talkin’ about the New World. He wanted me to believe it so bad, but… You – you can’t really see it when every night you’re back in the hellhole, or you’re back in that line-up, or Rick condemns you to death. How can there be a New World without Shane? Couldn’t do it without Glenn. I didn’t want to.’

Maggie leans in to kiss his shoulder. She rests her head there.

‘I thought I could just pretend for a while. Pretended to believe it, that we could come back from any of that and create this new thing that would somehow not be as fucked up as we are. Was willing to pretend for Judith, for this little guy. And hell, maybe it worked, right? I wanted it to work for them, ya know? I did. And I’d just have to pretend not to be messed up forever.’

‘You’re not-‘

‘I am,’ Daryl cuts Maggie off. ‘I know I am because you were right. You didn’t say it out loud, but you were right. I wanted to go find that guy outside of the Kingdom because I knew that Jesus and Morgan would bring him back alive no matter what. If he were some kind of psycho? They would bring him back and lock him up. I… I went with them to kill him. I just wanted someone there who would do it.’

‘But you _didn’t_ do it. Jesus said you could have.’

‘He caught me off guard, we literally ran into each other trying to get away from walkers. I didn’t think, I just stood there-‘

‘So your first instinct was to not kill him.’

Daryl shakes his head. ‘Don’t matter. I went there to be an executioner.’ He strokes Hershel cheek. The small boy is falling asleep in his arms. ‘You didn’t want me to go. You knew I would do it.’

Maggie sighs and sits up. ‘I did,’ she says softly. ‘But that doesn’t make you a bad person, Dare. You’re – you’re stronger than anyone I know, and we will need that strength in the future. We need people who are able to pull the trigger if they have to, but I need you to see the good in the world, too. Not everyone is out to kill us. Not everyone is evil, or out to control or hurt you. I didn’t want you to go because I was scared that you would have to do it, and that you would think that every person to ever cross our borders is evil.’

The teenager nods. ‘I was thinking about Shane the other night. At the prison, you remember how I used to find people back then? Just people wandering down roads, holed up in houses. People just like us.’

She smiles. ‘It would freak him out every time. You two had those walkie-talkies and you would come on, all chipper and happy; I found a guy again! And he’d _freak out_.’

‘He freaked out?’ Daryl asks with a frown. ‘I don’t remember that. He’d tell me to find a tree and chill there until he got there, he didn’t-‘

‘Trust me,’ Maggie laughs, ‘as soon as he put that radio away? Oof. Once he almost ran out of the gate without his gun in his hurry to get to you. Glenn had to race after him.’

‘That nerd,’ Daryl grins, the memory of the man warmer now and easier to recall. ‘I was just thinking; we’d find them out there, ask the questions and then decide, right? Once ran into a crazy guy who went ‘round killing people instead of walkers, thinkin’ he were setting them free or some shit. He answered the questions and Shane shot him right there and then.’

‘He was dangerous.’

‘Yeah.’ Daryl tugs Hershel’s tiny shirt straighter. ‘I’ve been skipping the questions lately but… some people might have the right answers.’

‘I think so, yes.’

‘I’ve been trying to _be_ better, but I didn’t _feel_ better,’ Daryl says, ‘but I think… I think I might, now.’

‘How come?’

Daryl shrugs. ‘It’s over and we won. I thought that it ended with Negan, and I want him dead more than anything, but… he’s rotting in a cell, but we’re still here. We made it. Time to start really living, right?’

Maggie nods.

‘And this new community we found, it’s… it’s awesome. They have medicine, and a farm somewhere. The people are good despite everything that happened to them, and they’re just like us! We’re the first they didn’t kill on sight and it’s because Amaka and all of them wanted a new world. If they want it just as bad as us, maybe we can make it work.’

‘I hope so.’

Daryl shoots her a small smile. ‘Me too.’ The smile fades quickly. ‘I’m sorry what I said about Glenn.’

Maggie reaches out and touches the brim of the baseball cap. Tucks some strands under it. ‘You didn’t say anything bad about him.’

‘No, just… We were fighting and - you were right. He wouldn’t have wanted me to go either, just like you didn’t want to. I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry.’

‘Thank you.’ Maggie carefully takes her baby back to let him sleep in his crib. She stays there for a little while before taking the picture frame in her hands. She looks at her husband. ‘He would have been proud of you.’

Daryl hums. ‘I talk to Shane a lot when I’m in the woods. I’m scared to talk to Glenn.’

‘It wasn’t your fault.’

‘Wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t been there.’

Maggie closes her eyes and shakes her head. One hand comes up to cover her mouth, a tear escapes down her cheek.

‘Sometimes it feels like I shouldn’t be here,’ Daryl says. ‘When Hershel smiles? Or when I’m riding with Khamsin and suddenly think; I’m _so_ happy…  After those moment, it feels like I shouldn’t be here no more. Don’t deserve it.’

Maggie cries softly.

‘Ain’t tryin’ to make you sad,’ Daryl mutters as he gets up and walks over. He takes the photograph and puts it back on the windowsill. ‘Trying to be honest this time around.’

Maggie reaches out and pulls him into a tight hug. ‘I know,’ she whispers through her tears.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘I know, Dare.’

‘I love you.’

She laughs into his shoulder. ‘I know. I love you, too. So, so much.’ She leans back and cups his cheek with one hand. The green eyes shine rightly. ‘And I think that Glenn misses the sound of your voice.’

 

 

The rabbits are dangling from a cord around his waist as he sprints up the staircase, taking the steps two at the time. His crossbow is safely on his back, gun strapped to his thigh and knife in its sheath, but he doesn’t feel the need to rest his hand on any of them. Instead, his hand trails over the wall, admiring the craftsmanship.

The expansion was finished while he was away. A building almost as big as Barrington house, but only two stories tall as to not impede the view from the watchtowers. A lot of finishing touches still need to be done, but the building is functioning and occupied. The rooms are smaller here, except for the ones at the back, which are reserved for families.

There’s a classroom downstairs that’s slowly filling up with tiny furniture, books and crayons and toys. Enid is in charge of biology and geography while Beth teaches the oldest kids first aid.

Another big room is filled with empty beds, meant as a spillover room from the medical trailer. They hadn’t had enough room last time.

He gets to the top of the stairs and looks around. There are two corridors. He’s not sure which room he needs, so he heads to one at random and knocks before leaning in.

A man is lounging on a bed. He’s reading a book but looks up to see the teenager hanging off the doorpost. He sits up quickly. ‘Daryl. Hello.’

‘Hi,’ Daryl answers. He doesn’t know the man’s name, only knows that he used to be a Savior. ‘Do you know where Sarah’s room is?’

‘Yeah, sure – right down the hall here. Her door has a circle carved in it. Left side.’ He puts the book away. ‘Do you need me to-‘

‘I got it. Thanks, man,’ Daryl grins before disappearing down the corridor. Every door has a little figurine carved into them. Cubes and flowers, a triangle, a smiley, a little house and then finally a perfectly round circle. He knocks and walks in when a voice tell him to.

Sarah is a woman with short black hair, slicked back to keep it out of her face. She’s wearing a dress with a thousand bright colors made from fabric one of the scouts had found in a mall. It comes alive when she twirls and the children always beg her to do it. She used to have a stall at Negan’s market place. He remembers seeing it on the tour Fat Joey had given him.

Right now she’s sitting at a small table with a young child. Both are bowed over a sheet of paper, thoughtful frowns on their faces. It’s a girl, older than Judith. Brown hair in a ponytail, boots kicking against the legs of her own chair.

‘Oh, sorry,’ Daryl says, ‘I can come back later.’

Sarah looks up. ‘No, no. It’s fine, come in.’

‘Ok, erm  - hi. My name is Daryl Dixon, and… erm-‘

Sarah laughs softly. ‘We know who you are, Daryl. How can I help you?’

‘Oh. Well, I remember – you used to cut people’s hair at the Sanctuary, right? I remember your stall, and I thought, well,’ he reaches to his side, ‘maybe you could cut mine? I caught you a rabbit this morning so I can pay for it. Enid would just hack it off, but I kinda want something that looks... I dunno… not like a crazy girl had a go at it, ya know?’

‘I am not a crazy girl,’ Sarah says as she stands up. She places a chair in the middle of the room. ‘And you do not need to pay me. Give that to the kitchen, dear boy. Now, hop on and tell me what you want to do with that rat’s nest of yours.’

Daryl huffs out a breath of laughter and puts his crossbow down near the door. The rabbit, too. He sits down on the chair and tells her what he wants.

It feels strange to have a stranger touching him. Sarah adjust how he keeps his head, sometimes gently pushing so he tucks his chin in, other times making sure he’s looking straight ahead. The snips of the sharp scissor have him digging his fingers into his thighs. Long stands fall into his lap. They cover the floor around them.

The little girl keeps glancing at him curiously.

‘Hey,’ Daryl mutters when she does it yet again. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Kristine.’

‘Nice to meet you, Kristine. What were you doing just now? Sorry to burst in like this.’

She shrugs and kicks her feet again. ‘’s okay. Doing homework.’

‘Blegh,’ Daryl says, and she giggles. ‘Let me guess, Math?’

She nods.

‘Bet Aaron is the only one who gives homework, huh? He’s a meanie sometimes. Always gives me homework too, but he’s real good at explaining it, right?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Yeah. Sorry to steal your tutor too.’

Sarah laughs and makes him tilt his head to the side. ‘I’m not much of a tutor, I’m afraid. Let me tell you; it has been _a while_ since I had to do all that.’

Daryl grins and glances at the little girl. ‘You scared of touching the rabbit?’

She frowns. ‘No?’

‘If you take it down to the kitchen for me now, I will help you with your homework when Sarah is done. Deal?’ He holds out his hand.

Kristine jumps of the chair and beams at him. ‘Deal!’ she claps her hand against his instead of shaking it.

‘Deal,’ Daryl laughs. ‘Run along now.’

When her running footsteps have faded, Sarah gives a soft sigh and places her hands on his shoulders. She pretends not to notice that he tenses immediately. ‘Thank you for being nice to her.’

‘Of course.’

‘She watches you sometimes from up here, when you’re working with Khamsin. Or when Beth is saddling her up. She loves the horses, and yours is stunning.’

‘Yeah, thanks,’ Daryl says. ‘She should come down when she sees us out there, give Khamsin a treat. Maybe Beth can give her a couple of lessons. She seems old enough to be able to ride. Not Khamsin though!’ He adds quickly, ‘she’s too wild, I’m afraid she’ll throw her. But we have other horses who would be perfect for her.’

Sarah walks around him to cut his fringe. ‘Her father told her not to ask.’

‘Why?’

‘You’re being very graceful about us staying here,’ Sarah says softly. ‘He doesn’t want to push the hospitality.’

Daryl stays quiet until the little girl returns. He flinches when Sarah uses a sharp razor to fix his sideburns and has to close his eyes when she does the back of his neck.

 

 

Merle tells him a story about his time in the army. They’re sitting on top of the wall, their backs pressed together, leaning against each other. Daryl’s leg is hanging over the edge. He kicks it back and forth, head lolling back onto his brother’s shoulder as he listens to the story.

It’s been hours. Just them, keeping watch together.

He has missed his brother. Merle has been away to help rebuild Alexandria, and then worked hard on the expansion. It’s been a long time since they got to spend more than five minutes together.

The stories flow easily between them. Merle telling him about his days as a soldier, or as a prisoner, a silly story about his friends, or that one time he got detention in high school. Some teachers had still been there when Daryl started to attend the school, always looking slightly distressed when seeing his last name on the attendance sheet and now he understands why. Merle had been trouble back then too.

He tells stories about the prison and some about Alexandria. He’s hesitant to tell stories about Will and anything before the turn but Merle doesn’t bite his head off when he starts so it gets easier after two of those. It’s nice to talk about his dad with his brother, even though Merle had hated him and he still loves Will.

‘There is no fucking way,’ Merle says.

‘I’m tellin’ ya,’ Daryl snorts.

‘An entire fucking prison full with people and you two rascals managed to crawl inside a car, start it and park it into a damn wall without anyone noticing.’

‘We didn’t take it for a joyride or anything, you’re acting like we meant to do it. Carl said he’d seen Glenn jump into the car via the window once, it’d looked pretty sick so we wanted to practice that! Dunno what happened, but one of us must have kicked it into gear or something. It just started rolling down the hill.’

‘You’d turned it on?’

‘Well – yeah!’ Daryl laughs, ‘it made it look more real.’

‘Wasting gas, trashing cars… Shane whoop ya?’

‘Nobody figured out it was us. They just thought someone had forgotten to put it into park or something. Freak accident. And we didn’t crash it, it just… bumped into the prison. Broke a damn tail light but it didn’t work anyway, so…’

‘He knew.’

Daryl laughs. ‘Nah man, we were sneaky as fuck!’

‘The things you told me about him? He knew it was you, man, ain’t no doubt about that. Freak accident has your name written all over it, monster. Remember that time all the towels were soaked but neatly folded on the shelves in the bathroom?’ Merle laughs when Daryl groans. ‘Used all of them to clog the bathtub because you couldn’t find the goddamn plug and then pretended nothing were wrong. You were lucky dad weren’t there.’

‘You were so mad,’ the teenager snorts.

‘You made me do laundry, you little asshole, ‘course I were mad. And then dad thought I’d… I don’t even know what he were thinking, that I’d jacked off in all of them and that was why I’d washed them?’

Daryl laughs loudly.

‘He ever had that talk with you? ‘bout how jerkin’ would made ya blind and all that bullshit?’

‘No man, I was way too young! Get the fuck out.’

Merle laughs, ‘yeah guess so. He tried to make a good Christian boy out of me.’

‘Shut up,’ Daryl elbows his brother. ‘Everyone can hear man.’

Merle rolls his eyes and clears his throat before shouting; ‘ _no, jerking off won’t make you go blind, monster, go to fucking town tonig_ -‘

‘Shut the hell up! There’s kids walking around down there man, shut up! Shut up!’

Merle’s booming laughter echoes over the fields. ‘Dead people walking and a teenager jerking off will scar them for life. They don’t even know what it means. Calm your tits. _Everyone calm your tits, monster is blushin’. No, Jesus, fuck off or he might combust.’_

‘Paul’s down there?’ Daryl hisses, quickly turning around so his back is to the community and curling into a little ball.

Merle glances at him. ‘You’re fucking pathetic, you know that, right?’

Daryl peeks over his shoulder. There’s not a single person out there.

‘Dinner time,’ Merle snorts. ‘They’re stufin’ their faces, don’t you worry about that fragile ego of yours. Good lord.’

The teenager punches him and reassumes his old position. They share more stories and a cigarette.

An hour later, they’re both standing in the bathroom Daryl shares with Maggie. There’s a bowl with hot water steaming up the mirror and Merle leans forward to wipe it off. Neither one of them is wearing a shirt. Scarred chests almost matching. Daryl marvels at the fact that he’s almost as tall as his brother now, still not as broad but getting there, slowly and steadily.

There’s shaving cream on both their faces.

‘You start at your sideburns, don’t put the blade flat onto it – at an angle, man. Like this, see?’ Merle holds the razor to his face. ‘Short strikes, two inches. Takes patience and hard work to get those whiskers off, okay?’

Daryl snorts.

‘Watch.’

‘You’re going too fast,’ Daryl complains when he tries to figure out what the right angle is while also trying to keep up with how Merle works towards his chin and then suddenly shaves the other way up his neck. ‘What the hell, man!’

‘Relax and watch, I’ll help you in a second.’

True to his word, Merle rinses off the rest of his shaving cream seconds later and steps back behind his brother, correcting his hold on the blade. ‘Like this, don’t lean into it, let the blade do the work. There you go. Short strokes, baby brother.’ Merle hums, ‘push with your tongue against the side of your mouth – pulls the skin tight, makes it easier. Yup, don’t gotta look pretty while shaving man, nobody’s looking.’

‘You’re looking!’

‘You wanted me to fucking teach ya, ‘cause you’re too dumb to figure it out on your own – no!’ He bats Daryl’s hand away. ‘Not like that, you’ll cut yourself. Careful. Like this,’ he corrects him gently.

Ten minutes later, Daryl is grinning into the mirror with Merle leaning on his shoulders. Cleanly shaven.

Merle grins back. ‘Looking good, monster. Let’s go break some hearts.’

 

 

It’s getting dark when Daryl walks into the large living room of Barrington house with a sniffling Hershel on his shoulder. He’d picked up the baby from a frazzled looking Enid, who’d been trying to calm him down by walking circles outside. Her frustration had only agitated the baby more, and both had been relieved to see the youngest Dixon walk up.

The fire has been lit and someone is cooking water to make Beth’s special tea. He knows it by the smell of the fresh herbs she uses.

Both Maggie and Beth are on the leather couch at the back of the room. Beth is slumped against her big sister and Maggie runs soothing fingers through the blonde hair. They’re both listening to a story Paul is telling. His voice doesn’t carry all the way to the other side of the room however.

Daryl carries Hershel over to them. He doesn’t make it very far before Maggie spots him.

‘Oh my God,’ she says, hand stilling on her sister’s hair. ‘Dare.’

‘Hmm?’ Daryl asks as he kicks a couple of pillows off a chair so he can sit. ‘’sup? Enid had him but he was fuzzy. I heard him throwing a fit all the way from Glenn’s place.’

‘Dare…’

‘What?’

Beth sits up too. ‘Wow.’

Maggie laughs, eyes sparkling due to the flames. ‘You weren’t kidding with keeping up appearances. You look… You look great. Your hair…’

‘Sarah cut it for me,’ Daryl says as he pulls his necklaces out of Hershel’s grasp. ‘No, _not_ yours, mine. No, also mine,’ he mutters when Hershel reaches for his pinky.

‘You had it like that at the prison,’ Beth remarks.

‘You did,’ Maggie gasps. ‘We can see your face again!’

‘Sorry about that,’ Daryl jokes. ‘Merle taught me how to shave. Someone were teasin’ me about it.’ He aims a light kick at Paul’s boot. He glances at Beth again. ‘You think it looks okay?’

‘It looks great! Yeah – I like it a lot.’

He gives her a shy smile. ‘Thanks.’

‘New clothes, you’re shaving, you cut your hair…’ Maggie sounds amazed. ‘What is going on?’

‘Nothing,’ Daryl says quickly, shooting Paul a nasty glare to shut him up.

The scout doesn’t say anything. He just smiles and drinks his tea before finishing the story he’d been telling. Daryl lies back in the big chair with Hershel on his belly, playing with the baby’s fingers until the little boy falls asleep while listening to his heartbeat. When it is dark out, Paul heads over to the wall for his night watch. Beth heads upstairs with a candle to read her book.

Maggie stretches out on the couch, her head on the armrest, eyes on her sons.

Daryl worries his bottom lip.

‘There’s nobody here,’ Maggie says softly. ‘Just us.’

Daryl nods. ‘Talked to Glenn.’

‘Good. Are you okay?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I’m so proud of you.’

Daryl takes a deep breath and rubs his fingers hard over the armrest so they burn. ‘I was scared when she cut my hair.’

‘I can imagine.’

He nods and doesn’t say anything else for the rest of the night.

Maggie doesn’t mind.

 

 

‘Back straight, there you go. Good job,’ Daryl praises as he lets the horse walk around in circles. The little girl beams at him with pride. Her hands are holding the reins but she’s not really in control yet. The horse is black with a couple of white spots on his belly and feet, older, and gentler because of it.

Inside the barn, Khamsin is throwing a fit because he didn’t take her out of the stables for the lesson.

‘Okay, we’re going a tiny bit faster. Move with him, good posture, there you go. Don’t squeeze him with your knees, ain’t no need for that. And slow again,’ Daryl smiles when the girl gives a relieved sigh even though she’d barely gone faster at all. The horse steps around the pasture, following Daryl’s instruction. ‘Now you’re going to make him walk straight and near the fence, you’re going to make him go left. Don’t yank at him, do it like how Beth showed you, a’right?’

He slowly walks over to the fence so he can sit on top of it. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees that Paul is sitting on the steps of his trailer, reading a thick book. Hair hiding most of his face, one hand supporting his chin and the other rapidly flipping the pages.

Daryl smiles at the sight of him. The smile doesn’t fade when the door of the trailer opens and Alex comes out. He sits down next to the scout. Their thighs pressing together.

The teenager hops onto the fence and continues the lesson.

Kristine is smiling from ear to ear all the while.

‘Dixon.’

Daryl turns on the fence to see a man standing next to him.

‘Sorry if she bothered you – I’ve told her a million times not to ask. Kids, you know?’ the man looks worried. ‘I’m really sorry.’

‘There were two herds,’ Daryl says. ‘The little girl, her name was Maria. She got out because she knew how to ride. I could put her on Khamsin’s back and she could ride to safety. It saved her life. It was fucking chaos, Carl and I wouldn’t have been able to keep her safe during all that. We barely got out of that pit ourselves. She rode to Alexandria and was fine.’ He looks at the girl riding around on the horse. ‘It’s important they learn. It could save her life one day.’

The man nods. ‘Thank you.’

‘I don’t owe you shit,’ Daryl mutters. ‘You don’t owe me shit neither. Ain’t about who you were, man. You’re here now. With us. Means you can ask me to give your little girl a goddamn riding lesson and I won’t say no. Other kids wanna learn how to shoot my bow? Holler at me and I’ll teach them, find them one. If I’m away, Merle will keep an eye while they’re practicing. Or Beth. We won’t bite your head off if you wanna learn. You’re one of us.’

‘You weren’t happy that we came here.’

‘No. I wasn’t. I was scared. Barely slept that week thinking one of you would come into our bedroom to put us down. Ain’t scared no more.’ He smiles when Kristine waves at her dad. ‘She’s good. Tell her she can come help out Dante anytime she wants. He’s a better teacher than me, too, but this is good start.

The man waves back at his daughter. ‘A great start.’

 

 


	26. The letters

 

* * *

 

 

 

Paul is chopping wood and Daryl pretends to draw. The pencil hasn’t moved for a couple of minutes, his hand frozen above the paper. It’s late in the afternoon. Daryl has been out all day with Merle to hunt. His older brother managed to be patient for most of the morning, trudging after him without so much as a grumble, but he got tired of it when it got too hot. They’d sat down at the edge of the river, hooking fish with surprising ease.

Merle would say it was his brilliant bait. Daryl still swears by the technique Andrea had taught him.

In the end it didn’t matter that Merle managed to get more fish, his bucket overflowing while Daryl’s was still half-empty. He’d emptied his traps before, rabbits dangling from his shoulder and the promise of boar tracks for the next hunt. It’s not only the food that had made him so happy, however. The fact that Merle had gone with him, waiting for him at the gate and asking if he could come had meant a great deal to him. His brother had wanted to spend time with him. Just that thought makes his feet lighter, his chest warmer.

Daryl runs a hand through his short hair and sighs.

Paul puts another piece of wood on the chopping block and grabs the axe. ‘You have fifteen more blocks to say what you want to say. After that, I’m going inside.’

‘Don’t have anything to say.’

Paul lifts an eyebrow.

‘Maybe I’m just creepin’.’

Paul snorts.

‘Oh right,’ Daryl looks down at his sketchbook, ‘you wouldn’t even fucking mind, you asshole. Did you _have_ to take your shirt off?’

‘I was hot.’

‘Fucking tell me about it.’ Paul smirks and Daryl laughs, shaking his head. ‘You’re such a dork. But yeah, I…’ the teenager worries his bottom lip, ‘Don’t really have anything to say, just… is it okay if I sit here for a bit? Hershel was screaming and Enid were nagging about going to see Carl, Maggie got angry because I tracked in some mud… so… can I sit here for a while?’

Paul brings the axe up and down, splitting the wood. ‘Sure.’

Daryl turns back to his sketches and this time, he really draws. It’s a new sketchbook, one Enid had found in a house somewhere west of Alexandria. The paper is thick and smooth. It soaks up the pigmented colors that stream out of his pencils. He hasn’t used much color before, mostly using black and white or even blue when all he had was a ballpoint pen on the road. Now he uses the tin of pencils he’d found outside of his bedroom door one day, a gift from one of the people from Hilltop colony.

There’s a hint of trees and a familiar truck. It had been hard to imagine himself younger, wondering whether he’d been that tiny while sitting on top of that truck, but he hadn’t had any problems depicting Glenn offering him a cookie. He’s not sure whether that’s the first scene he’ll be using, or whether he wants to start at the true beginning, with Will almost forgetting to take him with him.

It’s strange to draw his friends and family younger, with less lines on their faces and some even without their trademark weapons. There’s Rick without his hatchet and Carl doesn’t carry his silences gun yet. Even he doesn’t have a gorgeous but deadly knife gifted to him.

The prison is just a dark blur, with Lori standing next to Rick, hands locked together as they stand guard over their new-found family. Only when he sketches her face does he realize how closely Judith resembles her already. It makes him smile.

There’s Shane with his shotgun on his shoulder, Will glaring from his bunk, the farm Rick had tried to build. Himself trailing after Carl while doing chores, the both of them hiding under the blankets with their flashlight and comics, Carol with Judith and Beth singing a song at the campfire. Him and Shane walking through the woods, him and Maggie cooking dinner.

Shane looking stunned the first time he told him he loved him.

‘What’re you working on?’

Daryl looks up.

Paul is taking a break, drinking water from a dented aluminum bottle. Some strands of hair have escaped his bun and are sticking to his clammy neck. He’s sitting on the chopping block and looks curious. ‘Something new or just twenty more sketches of me?’

‘You look gross, I ain’t drawin’ you.’

Paul chokes on some water and laughs. ‘Ouch! I was hot ten minutes ago.’

‘And now you’re an old fart with a big ego, fuck you.’

‘We’re not friends anymore.’

‘Well I ain’t twenty-two yet, so what’re we gonna be, Paul?’

‘I liked it better when you would stutter and flee anytime you saw me.’

Daryl scoffs. ‘Never did that. Cut it out.’ He fidgets with his paper. ‘I’m drawing – sketching, like… how we got here? Who got us here. Rick wants a memorial wall for Alexandria. We had one before the walls came down, and we had one at the prison. It was just names, right? It’s important to remember their faces, too.’

‘Can I see?’

‘It ain’t done yet.’

‘Okay.’

Daryl rubs at his nose. He frowns when the scout doesn’t move over. ‘You can see, just ain’t done yet.’

Paul laughs and gets up, sitting down next to the teenager. Their shoulders brush together when he leans in to look at the sketchbook.

‘Stop sweatin’ on me, man,’ Daryl groans, bumping him away and passing the notebook over instead.

‘You love it.’

‘I don’t, you stink.’

‘Sorry,’ Paul shoots him a small smile. He flips to the first page of the notebook and examines the sketch for a little while. ‘Merle takes after your dad then?’

‘Yeah.’ Daryl chews on his fingernails, ears burning brightly. ‘This was in our trailer on the morning Atlanta got bombed. We… we used to live in a trailer park. Merle said he found that television down some road, but… pretty sure it were still in someone’s house when he _found_ it, if you know what I mean.’

Paul nods. He listens quietly, gaze roaming over the empty beer bottles in the sketch, the overflowing ashtray, the holes in the wall. Those are the details Daryl remembers. He doesn’t remember what the pattern of their rug was so it’s just a smudge of light gray on the floor, there must have been a picture of him and Merle somewhere in the room, school pictures their aunt had hung up with vague hopes that Will wouldn’t forget to be proud of them, but he hasn’t drawn that. Can’t remember where they had been exactly. He remembers what brand of beer it was though, that he hadn’t emptied the ashtray and only remembered when Will stormed in, panic squeezing his throat closed at the thought of his dad seeing that his chores weren’t done yet.

‘The famous cookie scene,’ Paul smiles when he flips the page. ‘Who is that?’ he points at the next one.

‘Lori. Rick’s wife,’ Daryl murmurs. ‘Weren’t a big fan of me at first, but… real good person, ya know? Looked after me – all of us.’

The farm, the flames and winter. Paul flips through it all. He stops at the prison. He looks horrified. ‘What is this?’

Daryl works his jaw. ‘Just skip that one – ain’t nothing, next one is-‘

‘What happened at the prison, Daryl?’

‘It ain’t real,’ Daryl says quickly. ‘Most of that ain’t real.’

There’s a demon in a corner of a cell. A little girl kneeling next to Glenn who seems to be bleeding from his eyes, nose and mouth, blood staining their clothes. Walker clawing at them through the bars, Daryl himself half-way out of bed, coughing blood onto the floor.

Paul looks up from the paper.

‘I wouldn’t draw that on the wall or nothing,’ Daryl says quickly. ‘It was that time there was a flu going ‘round the prison. Shane went out to get medicine for us, Glenn and I had to stay on death row with Hershel, who looked after us. We tried to help him, Sasha too, but… a lot of people died. It was rough.’ Daryl frowns and rubs his fingers over his knee, ‘thought I was going to die too.’

‘But Shane came back in time.’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl smiles. ‘I’d lost a lot of weight and was weak for a long time after. He was…’ he shakes his head fondly. ‘Every time I’d cough or say that I was tired, he’d drag my ass back to Hershel’s cell to get checked out. It was crazy. He was so scared it would come back.’

Paul smiles. ‘I’m sad that I never got to meet him.’

‘Yeah, me too.’

Paul shifts closer, ‘tell me more. Who is this?’

Daryl laughs, ‘rude! That’s Maggie, but I fucked up her face!’

‘That’s _Maggie_?‘

‘Yeah, look with the – hmm,’ he slumps, ‘yeah, that doesn’t look like her at all. It’s supposed to be Maggie, get off my ass about it. Next!’ He reaches over to flip the page.

They sit there until dinner starts. Daryl pointing out people, explaining how the system with the walkie-talkies worked, what his days were like at the prison and how it all came crashing down. The Governor. Quickly flipping past the fall of the wall, lingering for a second on Beth sitting on the ground, her foot stuck in a bear trap.

‘You stayed at a funeral home?’

‘Yeah’ Daryl grins, ‘I didn’t even know what it was. Beth had to explain it to me. We stayed there a couple of days. It was kind of nice, but we had to find the others.’

‘Of course.’

He skips the claimers and hasn’t even drawn Terminus. There are empty pages where Shane would die. The first image after all of that is him and Rick sitting on the bus, the shiny number twenty-two passing from one hand to another.

Paul glances up at his face.

‘I don’t want to talk anymore,’ Daryl says. ‘I want to leave.’

The scout leans back to give him more space. ‘You can always leave, Daryl. And you don’t have to tell me these stories, but I’m very happy to hear them, even when they’re sad.’

‘Hmm. The drawing – it helps, ya know? Forces me to think about things, but… I don’t want to draw the rest yet.’

‘That’s fine,’ Paul says. He carefully places his hand on the teenager’s shoulder. ‘Thanks for showing them to me.’

‘Yeah. Sure.’

They sit side by side for a couple of minutes.

Daryl doesn’t run. He just sits there, thinking about everything he just told Paul. A couple of months ago he wouldn’t have been able to tell any of that. Not the bad parts, but certainly not the good parts either. Months ago, he hadn’t been sure there had ever been any good parts at all. He couldn’t quite remember what it had felt like to see Glenn and Shane waiting for him at the gates of the prison after a long day of hunting, or how safe he’d felt reading comics with Carl under the blankets. How just for one second the world hadn’t been destroyed in front of them when he’d listen to Beth play the piano and sing her song.

‘There’s something that’s – it’s not really bothering me, but… I want to know one thing.’

Daryl nods, ‘what’s that?’

‘You’re training every day. You’ve cut your hair. You’re wearing new clothes that actually fit,’ Paul laughs and knocks their shoulders together. ‘I just want to make sure that you’re doing it for the right reasons.’

‘What would be the wrong reasons?’

‘Taiwo,’ Paul says. ‘You don’t have to change anything about yourself. He liked you the way you were.’

Daryl shakes his head. ‘No, it ain’t about him. I think he’s nice, cool, right? and… handsome,’ he ducks his head and scratches the back of his head, ‘but… nah, this ain’t about that. It’s about… it’s about me. Kind of… I don’t know. It doesn’t change nothing, but it makes me feel better anyway.’

‘Good. That’s all that matters.’ Paul smirks and leans into him, ‘but for the record; you look great.’

A blush creeps onto his tan cheeks. ‘Thanks.’

‘You’re very welcome.’

Daryl wrings up his hand and gnaws on his fingernail. ‘Can I ask you something? Like… you don’t have to answer or anything, but…’

Paul hesitates for a moment but then nods. ‘Yes, you can ask me something.’

‘You once told me that story about how you dumped your boyfriend in a parking lot, so… you’ve had a boyfriend.’ Daryl looks at his boots. ‘Did you just ask him to be your boyfriend? Do you have to ask that or –‘ He can feel that Paul is shaking. ‘What?’

Paul laughs, ‘I’m sorry! I’m sorry. You’re – you’re adorable. I thought you were going to ask something else entirely, oh my god, okay. Erm… Well, you can ask, but you don’t have to. It’s usually pretty clear whether someone is your boyfriend or not.’

‘Right…’

‘Maybe you should spend a little more time together first, before you-‘

‘Yeah, no, I know that, I ain’t – _stop laughing at me_!’

Paul curls his arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. ‘I’m sorry. I’m not laughing anymore.’

‘You are!’

‘I’ll stop if you stop blushing.’

‘I can’t!’ Daryl laughs and covers his burning ears, ‘stop! Stop, please stop.’

Paul takes a deep breath. ‘Okay. I’m good.’

Daryl elbows him hard. He runs a hand through his short hair. ‘A’right. Is it weird that I asked you? I mean – Beth would have told Maggie for sure, and Maggie would want to know who the hell Taiwo is. Ain’t asking Aaron, ‘cause… you know, with Eric and all… And Merle would just go ‘round telling everyone I’m gettin’ my dick wet or something stupid like that.’

‘Oh my God,’ Paul groans.

‘Yeah. Carl’s away but he’s fucking clueless himself, I don’t get how he managed to trick Enid into touching his dick-‘

‘Stop,’ Paul pleads.

‘I’m just _sayin’_.’

‘Stop saying anything!’

Daryl smirks. ‘Serves ya right for laughing at my pathetic ass.’

‘Yeah, now I want to stop talking and leave.’

‘But we’re friends!’ Daryl laughs, ‘friends talk about that kind of stuff!’

‘I hate you,’ Paul gets up and groans when the teenager follows him to Barrington House.

‘Why? Everyone always wants me to talk more! And you know – like, about _stuff_ … and _things_ , if I have any questions about… _that_ , you should totally teach me and-‘ Daryl yelps when Paul suddenly whirls around and swipes his feet out from under him. The scout grabs his arm to break his fall, letting the teenager tumble to the ground as if they’re back in his dojo. The notebook skits across the grass.

Daryl recovers fast, grabbing Paul’s arm, yanking him closer and then placing his boots against the man’s chest, kicking him back with all his might. He uses his own momentum for a backwards safety roll to land on his feet. When he looks up, he regrets it all.

Paul slams into him, driving him onto his back again. The scout pins him down easily.

Daryl laughs loudly, relaxing beneath him to show that the scuffle is over.

‘I taught you that move, it made you predictable,’ Paul says. ‘Good execution though. Can you get out of this?’

‘Probably. I’m kinda comfy though.’ A wolfish grin. ‘Does the tutor session start now? I promise to try my hardest.’

To Daryl’s surprise, Paul doesn’t jump up as if burned. Instead the scout settles his weight low on Daryl’s stomach. He’s holding his wrist but now his fingers glide up to entwine with Daryl’s.

‘Is that so?’ Paul leans down to whisper in his ear. ‘What do you want to learn?’

Daryl can feel his heartbeat picking up, his breathing becoming deeper and color exploding on his cheeks, red spots staining his neck, ears and chest. He tries to answer but all he can think about is how Paul’s chest touches his own.

Paul laughs in his ear. ‘You’re all talk.’

Daryl’s trembling fingers curl around Paul’s, holding on tightly.

 

 

There are letters that need to be delivered. Maggie wants to hold a summit for every community leader to solidify their bond. One will be held every three months, each time at a different community. She has plans to expand it, likening them to trade missions of old and the possibility to set up a big market so people can trade their goods and services.

Merle is pacing up and down the office, shouting at Maggie who doesn’t seem very impressed. Her light eyes are fixed on Daryl, who has taken the letters and is now flipping through them to see which communities are invited. He wants to deliver them. He wants to be a messenger, after all.

‘I don’t care that you think of him as your damn son, he’s _my_ brother. He’s _my_ blood and I’m tellin’ you now: that boy ain’t going, you stupid fucking bitch!’

‘Call me that again and you’ll regret it.’

Merle scoffs. ‘You’re gonna regret sending him when he gets fucking eaten by a walker. When he gets shot off that dumb-ass horse of his by some random asshole. When he gets back all mopey and fucked up again. He’s got a good thing going here. He’s doing good, and you want to send him away?’

‘I’m not sending him away,’ Maggie says calmly. ‘It’s up to him.’

‘He went to war for you, you dumb ass college bi - _lady_ , you think he’s gonna say no to delivering a bunch of letters? You ask and he’ll go runnin’, you know he will and you’re just usin’ him to-‘

‘Shut up, Merle,’ Daryl says before turning back to Maggie again. ‘I’ll deliver those letters, no problem,’ he throws one of them back onto the desk, ‘but I ain’t going to the Sanctuary. You’ll have to find someone else to deliver that one.’

Maggie beams at him. ‘Of course. Thank you, Dare.’

Merle scoffs but seems relieved at the same time. ‘You like bein’ somebody’s errand boy now, monster?’ He asks snidely.

‘Yeah,’ Daryl grins.

 

 

Three days later he rides to Alexandria. He left behind a sulking Merle who’d hugged him a little too tightly and Maggie who’d tried not to seem too worried. His saddlebag doesn’t only hold the letters for every community, but personal ones as well. Enid made Carl something and Beth wrote a letter to Michonne that he promised to deliver.

The ride is easy enough. Khamsin is excited to be on the road again, and so is he.

 

 

Rosita is there to greet him with a hug. There are new buildings to explore and he hoists Judith unto his shoulders as he walks through the lush gardens. He shoots a cheeky arrow into Carl’s target at the shooting range to tell his brother he’s home and then spends the rest of the afternoon running from him with Enid’s package behind his back. Dinner at Rick’s place. Sitting in the watchtower afterwards with Tara.

Nobody mentions Negan.

He leaves his sketchbook with Rick so the leader can pick which sketches he wants to use for the wall. A lot of pages are still empty, but they can make a start when he comes back.

The door to the prison is locked. He doesn’t ask for the keys.

He leaves before the urge to see the prisoner becomes too much.

 

 

The guards wave at him and children run along with Khamsin when he arrives at the Kingdom. There’s dirt on his cheeks, he’s missing a couple of bolts but he feels better and stronger than ever. Jerry’s hug feels comforting now, the way Ezekiel’s face lights up at the sight of him walking into the throne room makes his day.

He swings Jayla around and shakes her boyfriend’s hand before stealing her away to spend some time together. He visits Frankie. He agrees to take a book back to Alexandria for Negan though he makes no promises about giving it to the man himself.

He sleeps in his own room and stays for two days so Khamsin can rest up for the long ride to Oceanside. He draws and naps and talks to people, collects more letters and sits next to Ezekiel’s throne, legs dangling from the stage.

 

 

Cindy is delighted to get a letter from Tara and she drags him into a small hut to hear about what the other communities are up to. They trade stories and news, he has to endless repeat how adorable Hershel is and that Judith is getting so big. He carefully puts two small necklaces made from seashells into his saddlebag and wears his own as a bracelet.

He teaches one of the girls how to ride Khamsin and learns about the moon and tide. He discusses the trade deal Alex had wanted to propose, gives them the herbs they need to plant so they can exchange it at the markets Maggie is planning.

That evening, he watches how the sun dies in the water.

He marvels at how big his world suddenly has become.

His family, too.

 

 

The whistle calls him home.

Home is one of the safe houses between the Kingdom and the Sanctuary. They’d used it as a meeting place during the war but it has been abandoned since the peace began. It’s easy enough to find again. He hadn’t needed Merle’s hunting whistle as beacon, though he’s glad to hear it.

His brother is sitting on the porch. His bike is parked in front of the house, shining in the morning light. There’s a horse grazing on the patch of grass right next to it. Merle grins when he appears on the trail, Khamsin neighing softly and bucking playfully at the sight of him.

‘Easy,’ Daryl laughs as he jumps down, letting her graze after bumping Merle’s arm with her nose. ‘Hey man.’

‘Monster,’ Merle greets, engulfing him into a tight hug again. ‘How are you?’

‘Great! Everyone said they’ll come to Hilltop at the exact date. Oceanside will travel via Alexandria, Ezekiel will go straight to us. I’ve got a lot of letters for Maggie. Did someone deliver the letter to the Sanctuary?’

‘We did, yeah. Bunch of sorry ass fuckers down there, man,’ Merle says as he shakes his head. ‘Starvin’.’

Daryl looks away. ‘Who else is here? Thought you were just bringing Beth?’

Merle rolls his eyes. ‘Maggie were scared I wouldn’t _diplomatic_. Imagine that.’

‘Were you?’ Daryl asks, already knowing the answer.

‘One of them… his nose already were crooked, okay? Ain’t no harm in tryin’ to set it straight, I was helpin’!’

Daryl snorts. ‘What did he do?’

‘Don’t matter,’ Merle mutters but he won’t meet his brothers eye.

The door of the safe house opens and Beth and Aaron come out. The scout is happy to hear the stories about Oceanside and the Kingdom and won’t stop asking questions about what Alexandria looks like now. He hasn’t been back since the war, is too afraid of having to go through the stuff people had saved from his own house and decide on what to do with the last physical memories of his partner.

It’s clear that he misses the place, however. Daryl doesn’t doubt that he will visit at some point, when he’s ready.

Keys exchange hands. Daryl hugs Khamsin tightly, pressing his face into her warm neck and slipping his own letters into the saddlebag. One for Maggie. One for Paul. One of them is filled with news, gossip and ideas he had for their community. The other is filled with stupid jokes that will make Paul laugh, scribbles of the scout in the corners in silly positions. A tiny Paul hanging upside down from a branch, one on top of a truck, another running from a small cartoon Khamsin.

Beth sits down behind him, easily sliding in place on the bike. If Washington is serious about giving them vaccines for Hershel and Judith, they will need to hurry back to Hilltop. The medicine can’t sit in hot saddlebags for days on end, so they’ve decided to take their fastest mode of transportation; his precious bike.

Daryl watches how Merle coaxes Khamsin into letting him ride her with a smirk. He nods at Aaron, who’s already waiting by the trail. They disappear between the trees.

Beth’s chin rests on his shoulder. ‘Hey.’

He smiles. ‘Hey, sis.’

‘Ready for another adventure?’

Instead of answering, he blows open the gas and lets the bike tear away onto the concrete. Beth screams with joy and he whoops loudly.

 

 

Washington’s greeting is more timid, especially when it even takes Amaka a second to recognize him. When she realizes who’s walking down the street, she climbs down from the watchtower and opens the gate for them, gushing about how scouts from the Kingdom had given them long distance radio’s, so she’d been on the look-out for him all day.

She hugs him, welcoming him back before beaming at Beth. ‘Are you his sister?’

‘Yes, I’m Beth. You must be Amaka!’

The girls laugh together while Amaka leads them towards the metro station. Daryl follows them, looking up at the high watchtower but he doesn’t recognize the man who’s sitting on the platform. There’s nobody on the roof of the house down the road. No shadows on the fire escape.

Daryl’s shoulders slump.

Amaka shoots him a grin. ‘He’s below. I kicked him out of the watchtower. You have no idea how annoying he gets when he’s nervous.’

‘Who is?’ Beth asks.

‘Nobody,’ Daryl says quickly. ‘Erhm… Mason, I mean.’

Beth eyes him suspiciously.

‘We don’t have a lot of visitors,’ Amaka jumps in easily. ‘He really wants this deal to go smoothly.’

‘It will,’ Beth assures her, but Daryl can’t help but notice how her hand lingers on the gun on her hip. There’s a mixture of pride and sadness in his chest at the sight of it. She hesitates at the top of the big staircase but follows when Daryl jogs down, disappearing into the darkness.

Her mouth falls open in time with the giant doors. She blinks against the artificial light when Amaka laughs and grabs her hand, dragging her into the community, enthusiastically showing her the market place and the train at the back.

People eye her suspiciously. Some reach for their swords and spears until they see how happy Amaka is, and they smile when they finally recognize Daryl. It’s a good thing he’s still wearing his faithful wings on his back.

‘Mason is upstairs, as usual.’

Daryl nods and heads over to the staircase. One foot on the steps and gaze drifting up. He freezes and then shivers.

Taiwo grins down at him. ‘Hey.’

‘Hi.’ He’s forced to run up the staircase because Beth is nudging him to keep going. Face to face on the platform, sweat causing his palms to be clammy now, his gaze darting around in order to avoid Taiwo’s smirk. ‘Erm – good to see ya.’

‘And you. You look great.’

Beth appears beside him. She smiles at Taiwo and then looks at her brother. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?’

Daryl opens his mouth, closes it and then turns away. ‘Mason is inside, let’s go.’

Only Beth sees the surprise on Taiwo’s face being replaced by confusion and hurt.

 

 

 


	27. Masters of old

 

* * *

 

 

 

The doctor who runs Washington’s medical center is an asshole.

Daryl sits back in his chair and studies the middle-aged man sitting across from him. He wonders who has kept him alive all those years. There’s no way the man did it on his own. Perhaps he has just never left the compound and even survived the attack on their community all those years ago by hiding and running.

He looks like the kind of guy who has never taken a walker down. If they die on his table, an assistant probably has to end their efforts with a sharp knife. There’s no knife on his belt. He’s wearing pressed trousers and gleaming black shoes, a white doctor’s coat and fitted shirt. It looks like he’d walked straight out of his old life into the new one.

It makes Daryl suspicious. Nobody he knows has managed to hold onto their old selves like that.

The doctor had arrived late to the meeting and hadn’t apologized to Mason or his guests. It must have slipped his mind the moment he saw Beth. Eyes lighting up, one side of his mouth quirking into a sly smile, gaze roaming too freely for Daryl’s liking.

Dr. Gray.

He listens to Beth’s trade deal but doesn’t seem to have a lot of faith in her medical skills or knowledge. He’s condescending and mean, slipping snarky little comments into the conversation that make fun of her accent and he corrects her pronunciation when it isn’t necessary.

Mason brings up the vaccines for the children. The leader is very hopeful about a future together, especially now that a small group of his best soldiers has already visited the Kingdom for two days, just to meet the people and the King. He’s seen the horses, the food, and weapons. Things his community wants.

Dr. Gray smirks. ‘Vaccines are hard to come by these days. More valuable than horses or food. They’ll cost more than a handful of bullets.’ His gaze drops down to her chest, ‘how are you going to pay for them?’

Beth gives him a tight smile. ‘We’re willing to trade more than just _a handful_ of bullets. We also have livestock. Skilled laborers.’

‘Skilled laborers, hmm?’ He gives her a wolfish grin, ‘is that what you girls are called in the New World?’

‘Got sharp knives too,’ Daryl interjects, his hand covering the poisonous flowers on his weapon. ‘Want a demonstration?’

‘Dare,’ Beth’s hand shoot out to cover his, ‘why don’t you go and find your friends? I’m sure Amaka is dying to spend some time with you.’

He looks at her for a moment. Blonde hair in a high ponytail, curls wild and touching her shoulder blades. Freckles on the bridge of her nose that make her look younger than she really is, petite and frail-looking with those slim fingers and big, blue eyes. She tilts her head a fraction to the side, a gesture copied from Rick.

‘Sure. Yeah, thanks.’ Daryl gets up. She doesn’t need his help with the negotiations, nor with any creep that’s trying to look down her shirt. Despite her appearance as innocent and young, he knows she’s a devastating force. Just as skilled as Rosita in hand-to-hand and quicker than Carl, managing to dance and jump out of Merle’s range at every training session and thanks to Tara and Rick, her aim is true and hand always steady.

‘Dare,’ she says when he pulls the door open. ‘Knife, bow, holler.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ he grins. It doesn’t surprise him that Amaka is sitting on the platform outside, legs dangling down as she watches her community. Her fingers pluck at her afro, pulling strands down to braid them, so quickly that Daryl can barely follow the process. She’s wearing her armor of leather and metal, weapons locked in place on her hips. She looks up when he closes the door but doesn’t say anything.

‘Hey,’ Daryl leans against the banister and scans the market place. There are faces that he recognizes though it’s hard to recall their names. The same old people gathered around the fire pit, frail legs hidden under cozy blankets and dexterous fingers mending clothes or knitting garments. The kids are in their classroom but he doesn’t know their teacher. People jump in and out of the train to get to their work or bunks.

There’s no flash of sun-kissed leather against dark skin, no wickedly glinting dao that always catches his eye, no smirk that makes him blush even thinking about it. Taiwo has disappeared.

Daryl looks down at the girl.

Amaka pretends to not notice.

‘Where’s he at?’

The girl finishes another braid and starts a new one. ‘Who do you mean?’

Daryl narrows his eyes, ‘Taiwo.’

‘Oh, so you _do_ remember his name,’ Amaka says with a fake gasp of surprise. ‘That’s _great_ to hear, he’ll be _so_ surprised and then not give a fuck because you’re an asshole. Bye.’

‘The fuck did I do?’ Daryl snaps even though he knows exactly what she’s talking about.

‘Oh no,’ Amaka looks away, ‘we’re not even going there. Either be quiet or be gone, Dixon.’

Daryl sits down next to her and leans with his arms on the metal bars of the banister. He turns his head to stare at her.

After a couple of moments, she can’t contain herself any longer. Anger flashes over her features as she drops a half-made braid to glare at him. ‘He was _so_ excited to see you! He’d made _plans_ for you two, had this whole thing –‘ she cuts herself off. ‘You just ignored him. Even if you’ve changed your mind about him – that was mean. You didn’t need to do that. You could have just told him he’d gotten the wrong idea.’ She sniffs. ‘But you’re chasing him down now that your sister isn’t here, so I don’t think you changed your mind at all. You’re just an asshole.’

‘You’re right.’ Daryl scratches his cheek. ‘Whenever I like someone, my family always finds out somehow. And it’s always,’ he nudges Amaka with his elbow and wriggles his eyebrows. ‘All the time, ya know? ‘s annoying. Bad enough that Carl knows who he is, don’t need Beth all over my ass too.’ He glances over his shoulder at the closed door. ‘I think not introducing him made her suspicious though.’

‘You _think_?’

‘Never said I were clever,’ Daryl smirks.

‘You’re such a catch,’ Amaka says sarcastically while rolling her eyes.

‘I’m usually nicer, but I got nervous and then didn’t know what to say and Beth was right there and… I just got nervous and stopped thinking.’

She looks at him. ‘You got nervous.’

‘What?’ Daryl laughs, shoving her shoulder, ‘your brother is fucking hot and said I looked great. Fried my brain.’

‘You’re both such nerds, it would be some sort of romantic if it wasn’t so pathetic.’ She sighs and finishes her braid, starting a new one. ‘He’s probably hanging out in Felix’s trailer to try and hide from you. It’s about half-way down the train. He’s pretty embarrassed.’

Daryl gets up. ‘No chance you’re going to take me down there, right?’

‘Nope. Put the work in.’

Daryl looks at the trains. ‘The left or right tunnel?’

Amaka sucks on her teeth. ‘Who knows.’

‘Fine. Thanks anyway. Catch you later?’ He runs down the staircase after her nod and weaves through the marketplace. One of the men at the end nod their greeting and Daryl remembers him from last time. He stops. ‘Hey, good to see you again. I need to find Felix, Taiwo’s best friend? I hear his bunk is halfway down the train, but.. left or right?’

‘Left,’ the man says with a nod to the tunnel. ‘Taiwo’s room is on the right, but I saw him heading down to Felix’s earlier.

‘ _That is cheating, Daryl Dixon_!’

‘You said he had plans,’ Daryl shouts back at Amaka, who’s leaning against the banister, ‘I ain’t wastin’ no time tryin’ to find Felix’s place. Fuck that.’

 

 

It feels strange to walk through the train by himself. It’s dark in some areas but the path to the next carriage is always clear. He still places his feet carefully, hand brushing over the metal of the bunks while his eyes keep adjusting to the lighting. The sounds are unfamiliar. They echo back and forth, bouncing of the walls and metal, disorienting him. He doesn’t recognize any of it, doesn’t know who the voices belong to or what a loud thump in the distance means.

Brighter carriages are occupied by people he doesn’t know. Some are sleeping and others play a hand of cards. There’s a woman brushing her hair and a child fits puzzle pieces together. A man does push-ups and another woman sharpens her spear. At first, he hesitates and apologizes for stumbling into their space, but the man tells him to just move on. It’s fine. Everyone moves through until they get to their own place.

Relief washes over him when he finally makes it seven carriages down and steps into a brightly lit room, occupied by people he knows. Felix is hanging down from his top bunk to read a notepad that Hakeem is holding up. Taiwo is lounging on the other top bunk, boots poking out over the edge. He’s throwing a tennis ball up at the ceiling. It bounces right back into his hands.

Felix looks stunned for a moment. ‘Daryl! Hey!’ He sits up, ‘you’re back!’

‘Yeah, arrived a couple of hours ago,’ Daryl says as he scratches at his neck, feeling awkward. He glances at the other bunk but Taiwo just keeps throwing his tennis ball into the air. Hakeem waving drags his gaze back to the other side. He answers it with a wave of his own.

‘Awesome!’ Felix beams and then frowns as he looks at Taiwo. ‘I thought you were going to wait for him above gro- .’ Taiwo glares at him. ‘Err – never mind. Welcome back.’

‘Thanks.’ He walks over to Taiwo’s bunk and starts up the small ladder. He waits for the other boy to give him space by moving his legs but he keeps blocking the way. ‘Yo, can I sit up here?’

‘ _I’m_ sitting here.’

They glare at each other.

Felix watches the interaction and jumps down from his bunk. ‘Oh, I forgot I need to help my cousin with… something.’

Hakeem jumps up as well.

‘Yeah, you need to help, too,’ Felix laughs as he pushes his friend towards the door. ‘Let’s go. Stuff to do. Awkward situations to escape. Busy bees, we are – Christ!’ he ducks to avoid Taiwo’s angrily thrown tennis ball. ‘Bye Daryl! See you soon, we’ll hang out tonight at the house above ground, okay?’

‘Sure,’ Daryl says as he watches how the two teenagers slip out of the carriage and run down the aisle, finding their way easily. Felix’s laughter is loud and boisterous, Hakeem silent as always but jumping on his friend’s shoulders and grinning broadly.

Now that he doesn’t have his distraction anymore Taiwo moodily sits up and glares at the visitor. ‘What do you want?’

‘I’m sorry for not introducing you to Beth,’ Daryl mutters as he sits down on the bed, feet still on the highest rung of the ladder.

‘I don’t care. We’re not friends.’

‘Was kinda hopin’ we could be.’

Taiwo crosses his arms. ‘Is that how you treat your friends then?’

‘Well –no. I just… I said I were sorry!’

‘So?’

Daryl frowns, ‘what do you want me to do then? Drag you back to Beth right now, introduce you?’

‘I don’t give a shit, man!’

‘Clearly!’

They glare at each other again. Eyes narrowed and mouths a thin line. After a couple of seconds of eye contact, however, the corner of Daryl’s mouth quirks up in a smirk and Taiwo snorts, kicking him hard in his side.

‘Asshole.’

‘Pussy.’

Daryl sits back against the wall and winces when Taiwo lets his heavy boots fall into his lap with a thud. The other teenager stretches out and is looking up at the ceiling, arms behind his head. He’s wearing his armor, dark jeans this time. The dao is hanging from the bedpost.

Daryl carefully puts his hand on one of the boots, fingers scratching at the laces.

Taiwo looks at him.

Daryl gives him a small smile.

‘I like the new look.’

‘Thanks,’ Daryl murmurs as he quickly looks down at the boots. ‘Thought it was time for a change. Some lady did it for me.’

‘She did good.’

‘Thanks.’

Taiwo moves his foot to nudge the Dixon’s hand. ‘Everything okay back home?’

‘Hmm-hmm. It took me a little longer to come back – Maggie wants to organize this… thing. Like – a market, and summit  for the community leaders? It sounds pretty cool. I had to deliver the letters, stuck around for a couple of days each time. Everyone is spread out right now, it’s nice to see them, and Khamsin needed to rest.’

‘That firecracker needs rest?’

Daryl grins and plucks at Taiwo’s laces absentmindedly. ‘Yeah, though she doesn’t agree. She’s stubborn as hell. Rick had this barn made-‘

‘Rick is at Alexandria right?’

‘What? Yeah. Yeah. He had this barn made, and she has her own special box, ya know? And she hates it! Won’t go near it, I had to lure her in with some of Dante’s treats. It was embarrassing. I think she did it on purpose though, she normally only listens to me, Dante and Beth. She doesn’t seem to mind Aaron too much either.’

‘Who’s Dante?’

‘Oh – he works in the barn at Hilltop. Does other stuff too, laundry ‘n shit.’ Daryl traces the stitch work on the boot. ‘He was a soldier and a scout before. He likes working in the barn better now. Says it’s good for him.’

‘Sounds like the place he was supposed to be at all along,’ Taiwo says, ‘if he can handle Khamsin, right?’

‘Yeah, probably.’ They’re quiet for a little while. Daryl peeks at the other boy. ‘Amaka said she sent you down from the watchtower. Said you were annoying when excited.’

‘Amaka is a dirty liar who thinks she knows everything.’

Daryl grins. ‘Sure. She said you had _plans_.’

Taiwo rolls his eyes.

‘Come on, man,’ Daryl shoves the boots from his lap. ‘Beth will be holed up in that office for hours, so we can just sit around or we can go do something else.’ He hesitates for a moment. ‘If you still want to, I mean.’

Taiwo kicks his thigh again, gentler this time. ‘Yeah. I want to. Let’s go.’

 

 

The tunnels frighten him. It’s dark and he doesn’t know the way. There aren’t any stars to guide them here, his footsteps echo eerily through the system and there are sounds he can’t quiet place. Water drips in a steady rhythm that drives him nuts. He follows the faint outline of his friend and hates it when Taiwo moves too quickly, slipping around corners so he’s swallowed by the darkness completely.

‘You get used to it,’ Taiwo says. It must be true because he moves confidently through the system, jumping up creaking metal platforms and guiding him down even smaller service tunnels. He jumps over switches, balances on the tracks and manages to steady Daryl whenever the Dixon stumbles.

Daryl isn’t used to following anyone like this. Normally he’s the one up front, leading his friends and family through the forest without any trouble. In the darkness or the heat of day, he can find his way by stars and the sun. This artificial world doesn’t suit him anymore.

‘There are a couple of steps missing here,’ Taiwo warns as he jumps onto a metal ladder that goes up, up, up towards a hatch. ‘It’s not the most sturdiest thing, so.. careful. Wait down here and I’ll open the hatch up. It’ll give you some light. Go slow, okay?’

‘I can climb up some fucking ladder,’ Daryl snaps because being so dependent annoys him. Despite the darkness, it’s hot down here. Hard to breathe. His shirt clings to his back, sweat tickling his neck.

‘Just wait until I call you up,’ Taiwo murmurs. He climbs the ladder so quickly that Daryl can barely see where the missing rungs are. He sees him pull himself up half-way but then he’s gone in the shadows.

It doesn’t take long before there’s a loud creaking noise that startles Daryl. Light floods into the tunnel. Taiwo has opened the hatch. He disappears to the surface and appears moments later. ‘It’s clear, come on up. Careful.’

‘Stop tellin’ me to be fucking careful!’ Daryl hisses but he’s pretty sure the other can’t hear him. There’s no reply at least. The light makes it significantly easier. He climbs up steadily, only puzzled for a second when there are a couple rungs missing in the middle. With a grunt, he reaches up and then pulls himself up two rungs, muscles straining and the weight of his crossbow on his back not helping. He manages and climbs over the edge, crawling into the sunshine. ‘Easy.’

Taiwo lifts an eyebrow.

‘Didn’t even break a sweat,’ Daryl laughs as he wipes his forehead dry with his rag. ‘I don’t like the tunnels, man. Freaky.’

‘It takes a while to get used to them,’ Taiwo says with a smile. ‘you did good though.’

Daryl looks around. They’re close to a small park and right in the middle of a wide road. There’s rubbish everywhere, blowing through the streets, rotting in alleys. Stalled cars rusting away, the glass from the buildings on their right cracked or gone completely. A single American flag waves in the wind, just rags now, bleached by the sun. Smears of blood and gore on the pavement, bullet casings in the gutter.

‘Come on,’ Taiwo pushes his shoulder to get him to move down the street. ‘We need to get inside. Packs of Xidachane still roam the streets and there are other people out here. They don’t usually bother us though, but better safe than sorry. Follow me!’

Daryl runs after him, down the street and then around the corner, a couple blocks over before Taiwo runs up the steps of a magnificent building. Giant columns rise above him, making him feel tiny as they jump over broken glass of what used to be the entrance doors. They skid into a big hall. There’s marble on the floors, railings painted gold. Everything looks grimy now, dirty due to weather and time, but he can imagine what is used to look like.

Beautiful.

Broken chandeliers dangle from the ceiling, parts of the painted ceilings have come down and doors have been taken down by force.

‘Up here!’ Taiwo runs up a grand staircase, slipping around the corner with a grin on his face.

Daryl follows as quickly as he can, hand on the marble banister, cool against his heated skin. At the top, Taiwo stops and listens for a while. The whole building is silent. The smile he gives Daryl is blinding.

‘Do you know where we are?’

Daryl shakes his head.

‘Even better,’ Taiwo beams. Then he suddenly looks a little shy, the smile gone and Daryl misses it instantly. ‘I mean- maybe you think it’s lame, or… I don’t know, maybe Carl was talking crap.' He walks over to two large doors that are locked by a heavy-looking chain. He kneels down and searches in his pockets before conjuring up the keys and unlocked it. It rattles as it falls to the floor. He shoves it aside with his boot.

‘Carl? The fuck did he say?’ Daryl asks as he steps up beside his friend.

‘He said you like to draw,’ Taiwo says as he pushes the doors open. ‘We’re in the Smithsonian.’

 

 

Paintings upon paintings upon paintings. Halls filled with them. Some as big as his bedroom wall had been in the trailer, others so tiny that they could fit in the palm of his hand. There are portraits and landscapes, there’s modern art and there are classics. Oil and water and crayons and pencils and even one made with simple ballpoint pen. So many that it makes his head spin.

He’s never been inside a museum before. He knows them out of movies and stories and missed school trips his dad refused to pay for. Once he’d asked his dad if they could go for his birthday but Will had laughed so loudly that he’d been too scared to say that it hadn’t been a joke.

The closest he’d ever come was a stolen art book from his school’s library. He’d hidden it under his bed in the same way Merle had hidden his porn magazines. Fingers tracing the lines, holding the book far away to see the patterns Van Gogh could make with bold stripes or almost making his nose touch the pages while studying Ruben’s work.

He always tried to copy those masters, adopting different styles and never quite feeling at home in his own work but still loving every second of every botched attempt. He’ll never be a Wood, or Picasso or Manet, but he’s learned from them all the same.

Now, he wanders through the hall with weak knees. He can smell the paint even after all these years. Some are hanging askew, others are lying on the ground and a couple have been damaged but most have been left alone. In perfect condition. Maybe a little dusty.

He stops at a painting of a wild sea. Threatening and looming and almost tearing a ship apart. He tries to remember the swirl of grays, blue and black, the white foam on top of the waves.

Further down, there’s a woman dancing in a town square. Skirt flowing, arms up in the air, the background hazy as if she’s spinning, spinning, spinning right there on the canvas. He steps closer, wants to know whether that shadow is just an illusion or the artist made the red of her skirt darker in places but then quickly steps back to glance at Taiwo, who is trailing after him.

‘’s cool.’

Taiwo smiles. ‘Yeah?’

Daryl shrugs. ‘I guess…’

Taiwo’s smile melts away. ‘It was just a stupid idea, we can bail and do something else.’

‘Yeah, okay.’ His heart breaks and tears as he follows the other teenager back out of the hall. He tries to soak it all up in the last couple of seconds, tries to see every painting, memorize every brushstroke and technique before it’s locked away again.

‘So Carl was bullshitting then?’ Taiwo asks.

Daryl bites on his lip but can’t keep it in. ‘Nah, man, this is the best fucking thing that’s happened to me in – fuckin years man. Except for Kiss bein’ born and all that, of course. Love this shit.’

Taiwo stops and turns around. ‘Then why do you want to leave?’

‘I don’t. It’s just… don’t want you to be bored while hangin’ out with me, is all,’ Daryl scratches at his cheek. ‘Just seein’ that? That was… just the best thing, man. Ever.’

Taiwo looks relieved. He steps closer and puts his hands on Daryl’s shoulders to forcefully turn him around. ‘Get your skinny ass back in there, you asshole. I’ve spent hours preparing this – I thought you hated it, man! Shit. Come on,’ then he walks past the Dixon and grabs his hand, tugging him along. Down the halls to a couple of benches that have been pushed together.

‘Here,’ Taiwo grabs something from the bench. ‘Erm… Amaka said people used to do that. That they’d come to a museum to draw the art, for practice?’

Daryl looks down. It’s a sketchbook and pencils bound together by a rubber band.

 

 

He sits and draws. Sometimes quick sketches of details he likes, other times more elaborate drawings to practice a technique he hadn’t seen before. He moves from painting to painting, loving every second of it.

Time flies by. The shadows moving on the walls tell him when morning ends and when the afternoon is getting late. Every fifteen minutes or so, he glances over his shoulder.

Taiwo is lounging on the benches in the middle. His right boot taps along to the beat of the song he’s listening to. Right next to the sketchbook had been an old Ipod filled with the music some dead girl had liked. It’s his now. He smiles every time Daryl looks his way and sticks his thumb up with raised eyebrows.

Daryl nods. No walkers. Nothing wrong. Just looking.

He’s gorgeous, Daryl thinks as he stares at his friend. Long, strong limbs and that easy smile. The way he sometimes doesn’t notice the lingering looks because he’s too lost in the music. Shoulders even moving from side to side like he’s dancing while lying down, mouthing the words, hips moving restlessly before the beat drops and he comes back to the real world.

Taiwo pluck one of the earbuds out and sits up.

‘What?’ Daryl asks, ears turning red under the gaze.

‘Wish someone would have painted you,’ Taiwo says. ‘You could have been a model. You’re gorgeous.’

Daryl doesn’t know where to look. His gaze darts from his hands to Taiwo’s knees to the wall to his own boots. ‘Err.. thanks.’

Taiwo smirks. ‘No one ever told you that before?’

‘Loads of people, all the time, people won’t shut the fuck up about it,’ Daryl says before laughing and hiding his face behind his bend knees. ‘No. Stop.’

Taiwo laughs and gets up. He walks over and kneels down in front of him. With slow motions as not to startle the other boy, he reaches out to push his earbud into Daryl’s ear. There’s a slow beat, a smoky voice singing in another language. He can’t understand the words, doesn’t understand any of it, but knows what the man is talking about all the same.

Taiwo’s close, so close that he can count the man’s eyelashes, dark against his dark skin. The shining eyes piercing but warm, lips curled into that ever-present smile.

He feels fingertips gliding over his cheek, down to his jaw, falling away. He misses the touch immediately.

The song ends.

Before another starts, Taiwo leans in and kisses him.

 

 

The smell of paint around him and music in his ears. Taiwo’s hand now on his neck, fingers starting to disappear into his shorter hair while they kiss. Short pecks, a daring nip at a lower lip and soft lingering touches. A bit unsure on his side. He’s not sure what to do with his hands and feels stupid when Taiwo reaches down to grab one and bring it to his own cheek to show him.

Embarrassment causes him to go rigid.

‘Sorry,’ Taiwo backs away, ‘I didn’t mean-‘

‘Never really done that before,’ Daryl says quickly, ‘Just once and that was just a peck really. Never – never had a boyfriend.’

‘Oh – okay,’ Taiwo says, shoulders slumping with relief. ‘I thought I’d freaked you out or maybe I’d misunderstood or something. So.. okay. Err…’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl laughs at the sudden awkwardness between them. ‘No, I – definitely want to do that again – if you want to, right, ‘cause-‘

Taiwo silences him with another peck. ‘Are you going to stay at Washington for the night? We could come back tomorrow, you can draw some more and I’ll just watch you all day again. Yeah, you weren’t the only one,’ he grins before taking his earbud back and putting the device in his back pocket. ‘It’s getting late. We should head back.’

‘Yeah, okay. And yeah – it’s too late to go back to the Kingdom now, let alone Hilltop, so we’re at least spending the night. I don’t know how far the negotiations are though, Beth might want to head home.’

‘Beth?’ Taiwo asks as he skips towards the exit. ‘I don’t know her. Maybe you should introduce us some day.’

 

 

Down the ladder and through the tunnels. The dark doesn’t bother him so much anymore now that Taiwo is holding his hand, swinging it to the beat that’s always playing in his head. They talk and laugh and joke around, shoulders bumping and fingers squeezing.

Just before they make it back to the train and beyond that Taiwo’s community, Daryl tugs him to a stop. Their lips find each other in the total darkness. Bolder now, with a little push and pull of confidence building, even the flash of a tongue touching Daryl’s bottom lip before it’s gone and Taiwo flicks his nose before darting away again.

Picking up speed on the little sidewalk, chasing each other towards the light.

‘We missed dinner,’ Taiwo pants as they jump onto the platform. The market has gone for the day, people settling down for the night with games of poker and stories that could either be truth or legend. ‘I bet Amaka saved us some though, probably brought it back to the house.’

‘The one outside?’

‘Above,’ Taiwo corrects. ‘You’re either above or below here. Stay a while,’ he smirks, ‘and I’ll teach you how to sound native.’

‘Drop your G’s and you’ll fit right in with my people,’ Daryl laughs.

They make their way to the stalled escalators.

‘ _Dare_!’

Daryl whirls around and watches how Beth comes bursting out of the office. She runs down the staircase, blonde hair flying behind her. When she comes closer, running at full speed towards him, he suddenly sees that she’s crying. Eyes red, nose running, feet unsteady.

‘What happened? What’s wrong? We told Felix to tell you where we were! I’m sorry, Beth, what’s-‘

She crashes into him, holding him tightly and sobbing against his shoulder. Then she suddenly pulls away, grabs his arm and starts heading to the staircase. ‘We need to go-  Dare, we need to go!’

‘Beth, what the hell? Tell me what happened! Did that son of a bitch-‘

‘It’s Maggie. Ezekiel radioed the guards here – we have to go home. There’s something wrong with Maggie!’

‘What is wrong with her?’ Daryl asks but he slowly starts to move towards the stairs, ‘Beth?’

‘She’s been poisoned!’

 

 

 


	28. the new way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional chapter warning; self-harm mentioned

 

* * *

 

 

 

The bike skids to a halt in front of Barrington House.

It’s almost four o’clock at night but the entire community seems to be awake. Guards are patrolling the wall at a brisk pace. Fires have been lit in various places and people have huddled around them. It’s not a cold night but they’re sitting close together anyway.

The horses are restless. It didn’t help that the bike roared past the barn at full speed. Daryl doesn’t care much. He casts a look at the building and sees that Dante is already running inside to calm them down, quickly followed by two women who sometimes help Beth with the riding lessons.

Beth jumps off the bike first. She runs up the stairs to Barrington House and holds the door open for him.

He kills the engine and then just lets the machine fall into the grass. Two big steps and he burst through the door. Their boots are heavy on the stairs, loud in the silence of the night but Daryl doubts that anyone is sleeping tonight.

There are people sitting on the stairs but they avert their gazes as soon as they see the two siblings. At least none of them is crying. A good sign, Daryl thinks as he jumps onto the landing first. There, he freezes.

There’s a big window at the end of the hallway. A figure stands there, watching over the community. Black against the gray, yellow, orange and red of the broken night. Still as a statue but strikingly familiar. Bowlegs, curls and a python that hasn’t lost its shine after all those years. A mean-looking hatchet with its sweat-stained handle.

Rick.

And that’s a terrible, terrible sign. All the way back from Washington D.C. he has been telling himself that someone made a mistake. It’s food poisoning and she’ll be fine in the morning. It’s just a regular flu that Harlan will take care of in a second. Whatever it is, it’s nothing serious and Maggie will be fine.

But Rick is here. He has left his community to others, has braved the journey in the dark and worst of all; he has beat them to Hilltop Colony. Daryl knows Beth would have been contacted first. The radio call had come an hour before he’d returned to Washington with Taiwo and he’s pretty sure he made up that time by driving recklessly, pushing his bike and his own driving skills to the absolute max. And still, Rick has beat them to Hilltop, which means he took a car instead of his horse.

Daryl feels sick. He falters, comes to a halt half-way down the corridor and pays no mind to Beth who runs past him to Maggie’s room.

Rick must have felt his gaze because he turns around. ‘We’re here,’ he says softly. It’s not as reassuring as he thinks it is. ‘She’s inside.’

‘Yeah, I – I…’ Daryl shakes his head and starts running again, grabbing hold of the doorpost to sling himself into the room.

Maggie is lying on the bed. Her eyes are closed and the dark hair has been swept out of her face, revealing her clammy, pale skin. There are burns around her mouth. She seems to be sleeping for now. Chest rising and falling steadily.

Beth is sitting next to her on the bed. She holds her sister’s hand tightly, mouth just a thin, determined line. She’d been crying earlier, almost hysterically on their frantic run to get back to the bike and then softly against the angel wings while he drove her home. Now she’s calm, like she always is whenever she’s needed.

Michonne is standing next to her, hand resting on the blonde curls of the youngest Greene sister. Her gaze is on Maggie. Pained and concerned. She keeps glancing at Harlan and Alex, who are sitting on the other side of the bed. Their heads are bend closed together. Eyes scanning the pages of a thick book that rests in Alex’s lap.

Paul is standing in a corner as if he was scared to be in the way earlier. Arms around his own torso, gaze firmly on the ground in front of him. The long hair is tucked behind one ear, but it still hides most of his face. He’s pale and he closes his eyes when the youngest Dixon bursts in.

‘Monster.’ Merle is leaning against the wall that’s next to the bathroom door. Baby Hershel is sleeping against his shoulder. One of his big hands covers the back of the baby boy protectively. When he whimpers, Merle tilts his head to kiss his temple, hushing him.

‘What happened?’ Daryl asks. He staggers over to his brother, ‘what happened to her? How is she? Is she-‘

‘We think she’ll be okay,’ Merle says quickly, putting his hand on Daryl’s shoulder to steady him. ‘Looked bad but – she’s tough as nails, man. Harlan ‘nd Alex were nearby, did everything they could. It’s up to her now. Rest and time, brother. Rest ‘nd time.’

‘But what happened?’

 ‘Someone tried to poison her, man,’ Merle mutters while looking away and kissing Hershel’s head again.

‘ _Who_ did?’ Daryl growls. He steps closer to his brother.

‘A man from the Sanctuary,’ Michonne says as she walks over. She’s not scared of the teenager, or the rage that’s building behind those sky-blue eyes. ‘The Sanctuary has been excluded from any trade-deals up to now. Maggie wanted to change that. The letter didn’t just contain an invitation to the summit or market, she wanted to have a meeting with Dwight before that.’

‘ _Dwight_ did it?’

‘No. Someone who came with him. I think he wanted to get rid of both Maggie and Dwight.’

‘So why ain’t he in a hospital bed?’

Michonne shake her head. ‘Apparently  he doesn’t drink anymore. He took a shot of water instead.’

Daryl closes his eyes for a brief moment while breathing through his nose. ‘The guy. Who is he?’

‘Nobody we know.’

‘What happened to him?’

Michonne shifts her weight. ‘He’s been locked inside the cellar. Aaron is on guard duty.’

Daryl’s eyes snap open, dark with fury. ‘He’s _alive_?’

‘Monster –wait!’

But Daryl twists so he’s out of Michonne’s range and Merle can’t lunge for him because of Hershel, and then he’s running for the door. One hand already pulls the knife out, teeth gritted together so hard it hurts. Just when he wants to take the turn, his way is blocked.

Rick grabs him by the shoulders so they don’t collide but then let’s go to not make him feel trapped. The stormy eyes are dark in the light of the candles. The curls tamed for now, beard neatly trimmed. He looks younger somehow.

‘Rick, watch out!’ Paul shouts, ‘he’s got a knife!’

Rick silences the scout with a calculated look.

Daryl stares up at him, heart pounding so loudly in his chest and head that it makes it hard to hear his own thoughts. He’s so angry that he wants to scream and shout, rage against someone, something – anything at all. The words are stuck inside his throat however. It feels like he’s choking because he’s so sad too. He’s scared and wants to run, he wants to hold Maggie’s other hand, wants Michonne to call him Picasso, wants to take a hit during one of Merle’s boxing lessons.

Rick reaches out. One warm hand behind Daryl’s neck, dragging the teenager close enough so he can loop his arms around the strong shoulders.

The anger doesn’t fade but the fight leaves Daryl’s posture. He slumps against Rick, hiding his angry tears in the crook of his neck. He wishes he was still small enough to let his forehead rest against the man’s sternum, to be completely hidden away when Rick puts another hand over his dark hair. Most of all, he wishes it was Shane who kisses his ear, or Glenn who would have lifted him up to carry him away from whatever had upset him.

But Rick is a decent replacement now that Hershel has claimed his big brother and Maggie is out cold.

‘I’m gonna kill him,’ Daryl says.

Behind him, Michonne shifts her weight. She shares a hesitant look with Merle. ‘We’ll decide on what to do with him later.’

‘I am going to kill him,’ the youngest Dixon says, slower now to make the words clearer, as if Michonne hasn’t been used to his drawl for years now. He brings his hands up to hold onto Rick’s shoulders from the back, hugging the man tighter.

‘He doesn’t matter,’ the former sheriff says. ‘He’s locked up, ain’t nowhere for him to go now. We can decide later. Maggie needs you.’

Daryl pulls away. ‘You expect me to sit here ‘nd hold her hand while he draws breath?’

‘Maggie is not out of the woods yet, so yes; I expect you to stay by her side until morning. If she wakes up, you, Beth and Hershel are the first people she’ll want to see.’ Rick cups his cheek. ‘And if she doesn’t-‘

‘ _Rick_ ,’ Paul hisses. ‘She _will_ wake u-‘

‘If she doesn’t,’ Rick repeats while staring at Daryl, ‘you come and get me.’

Daryl’s mouth is dry. He looks at Rick’s shoulder. ‘I know what I gotta do.’

‘No,’ Rick’s grip tightens. It almost hurts. ‘You come and get _me_. You don’t do it. Beth, you don’t do it. You hear me?’

Beth nods.

‘Gotta be someone who loves her, man,’ Daryl whispers because it’s important.

‘I love her,’ Rick whispers back. ‘That’s why I’m here; because I love her.’ His hand falls away slowly. ‘At dawn, we’ll decide what to do with that guy. Stay here for now.’

The teenager nods reluctantly and heads over to the bed. He slides into his own spot, curling up next to Maggie like he does every night. Only this time he faces her. The burns look painful and Daryl wonders what kind of poison would cause that. The thought whether or not the burns go on inside her mouth and down her throat make him sick.

Beth is humming under her breath while staring at her sister’s face. Suddenly she perks up, eyes bright with unshed tears as she starts to tell about their visit to Washington and the Kingdom. About Ezekiel who had spun her around, lifting her clean off the ground, and about Amaka who has armor that made Beth jealous. How Mason had seemed like a great guy, and the doctor like a slimy weasel who had been too distracted by her boobs to notice that she’d tweaked the exchange list a tiny bit more in their favor.

Daryl watches her. He pretends not to notice that her fingers are pressing against Maggie’s wrist while she talks, just so she can feel her sister’s heartbeat and will know when to back away.

‘Jesus,’ Rick says with calm authority. ‘We should make the rounds, spread the news that she’s recovering.’ When the scout opens his mouth to protest, Rick narrows his eyes. ‘It will do them good to see a familiar face.’

Daryl sits up suddenly. ‘Where’s Enid? She should be here, too, where-‘

‘She’s with Aaron,’ Michonne says. ‘She didn’t want to be here.’

He’s up and out of the bed before anyone realizes it. He stalks out of the room, muttering under his breath. They let him go this time.

It doesn’t take him long to find her. She’s sitting directly across from the entrance to the cellar. Her eyes are fixed on the heavy chain and padlock. Thin arms wrapped around her legs, chin resting on her knees. The wind plays with strands of her brown hair but she doesn’t seem to mind.

Aaron is sitting next to her. Stretched out and eyes distant, offering her silent comfort in the dead of night. There’s a torch right next to the cellar door. It barely gives them enough light to see past the second tree from their right, but all they need to keep an eye on is right in front of them anyway.

The man glances up when Daryl approaches but Enid doesn’t take her eyes off the lock.

‘She ain’t dying!’ Daryl shouts before Aaron can greet him. He ignores the man and stops right in front of the girl. He glares down at her. ‘Did ya hear me? She ain’t dying you stupid bitch, so you best drag you ass up to that room, or I swear to fuckin’ God!’

Enid doesn’t seem impressed by the outburst. She just stares at his knees like she can still see the lock behind them.

‘You don’t get to choose,’ Daryl roars, kicking dirt up into her face. She doesn’t flinch but Aaron sits up, alarmed. ‘You don’t get to choose when you’re theirs, okay? ‘cause one day it will be you in that goddamn bed and you’ll be lucky if she’s on the other side of the glass! And she fucking will be, every single day no matter how fucked up you look and she’ll still try to make you laugh! So get up.’ He stamps his boot. ‘Get up! _Get up_!’

‘What the hell do you know,’ Enid whispers.

‘I know a shitload more about her than you,’ Daryl says, ‘but you don’t need me to tell you she’d fucking want you there. Stop hiding out here, thinking it will end bad. If it does, you’ll hate yourself for not being there. And if it don’t, you’ll want to be there when she wakes up. So get up.’

Enid shakes her head.

‘You should go with him,’ Aaron says softly. ‘He’s right. She’d want you there, or at least inside the house. Try to get some sleep.’

She scoffs and looks at him. ‘You promised.’

Daryl frowns, ‘he promised what?’

Enid turns back to him. Her eyes are dull. ‘If he tries to escape… if he tries anything, I can kill him.’

Daryl looks back at the padlocked door and suddenly understands why she’d been staring at it. Not to make sure it was still locked, but whishing that it would rattle, burst open, whishing she could throw her knife and watch him die. He closes his eyes briefly. ‘Ain’t gonna be on his terms,’ he says. ‘Ain’t gonna be when he has made peace with his gods and conscience. We are going to decide. It’s up to us when he dies.’ He holds his hand out to help her up. ‘And it can wait ‘till morning.’

 

 

The last hours of the night seem endless. They’re all sitting in different corners of the room, with only Beth on the bed. Enid is sitting below the window and she keeps watch with glinting eyes. Sometimes she’ll move to relieve some pressure, or to take a sip of water, but she never leaves.

Harlan is sleeping in the lazy chair. Slouching, one arm hanging down so his fingertips touch the soft carpet. A couple buttons of his shirt have been undone and there’s drool dripping out of the corner of his open mouth. He snores softly, exhausted after the long night.

Daryl listens to Beth’s singing. She’s just a dark shadow against the mixing light of the moon and rising sun. It’s one of her own songs because she sings it confidently. Sometimes people request songs they remember from their wedding days, from dancing to it with their best friend at a lame party, from those lazy Sundays driving around the countryside  because there was nothing else to do. She tries her hardest every time but it’s never the same. The words escape her, the memory too vague to hold onto any details, and the beat will always be too slow.

But this song is perfect. Daryl pretends to be asleep in a corner while he listens. It’s about spring. He knows it in his bones even though she never says the word. There’s a hopeful melody and the words blur together to paint the picture of sunrays filtering through the trees. Maybe she remembers a day from when she was little, walking through tall grass while holding her dad’s hand, or the first time she was allowed to ride her horse on her own. That nervous burst of energy that comes with new beginnings.

‘Did you like it?’ Beth asks when the song ends. She tucks a strand of hair behind Maggie’s ear but Daryl knows she’s talking to him.

‘Yeah,’ he says, giving up on pretending to be asleep. It never works on her anyway. Enid, however, flinches when he suddenly speaks up. ‘Didn’t understand half of it – too many big words for a tiny brain, but.. yeah. I liked it.’

‘Music isn’t about the words most of the time. Just like your art isn’t about a couple of lines. It’s about how it makes you feel.’

‘Made me happy,’ Daryl confesses in the dark.

Beth turns her head to him and he guesses she smiles. ‘I’m glad. You never request a song.’

‘Don’t know too many,’ he says. ‘And the ones I knew were Will’s favorites about dark whiskey and good country boys chasing good country girls and somehow ending up in a church somewhere. Or something stupid like that.’

‘Ain’t nothing wrong with that,’ Beth says as her head tilts to the side. ‘Those were my favorite songs, too. I wanted that. A good country boy who’d chase me some. I wanted him to bring flowers on our first date and I wanted him to have a shiny pick-up with wheels bigger than me. We’d go to an outdoor cinema and kiss before the main characters fell in love themselves.’ She tilts her head again. ‘Maggie used to laugh at me for wanting all that.’

Daryl hums.

‘She wanted someone wild. Someone just blowing through town who’d sweep her off her feet and take to some place she’d never even heard of before. She always promised she’d send me postcards and that she’d try to make it to my stupid country wedding in time,’ Beth laughs but it sounds sad. ‘Daddy worried about her so. Annette was the one who told him to let loose – just a tiny bit. Let loose, or you’ll lose her forever, Hershel Greene, she’d say.’

Daryl gnaws on his nail. ‘You told me you wanted to go to New York.’

‘I wanted to swim with dolphins and see a rain forest. Touch the pyramids, eat crickets and visit every continent. Everyone knows I’d never go. They were nice dreams at the time. That’s all. Maggie – she had a map in her room. It showed every state she’d been too. About half of the map was already colored by the time all this started. She was like that.’

‘I wanted to be the best tattoo artist of the world and had never been out of Georgia.’

Beth huffs out a breath of laughter. ‘You were only twelve.’

‘Still gonna be the best tattoo artist,’ Daryl says with a smirk. ‘Reckon all this eliminated a lot of competition.’

She laughs for real this time.

‘Just sayin’,’ Daryl grins, ‘you could still have that country wedding. A good county boy. And we’ll built you a goddamn church if that’s what you want. Hell, we’re buildin’ a whole new world, we can add four walls ‘nd a roof.’

Beth is quiet for a long while. ‘Thank you,’ she whispers eventually.

‘Sure thing.’ He gets up and lies down on his side of the bed. ‘Ass is hurtin’ something fierce from sitting on the floor,’ he says when Beth raises an eyebrow.

‘Stop pretending to sleep and actually try to get some rest.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

An hour later, his arm is wrapped around Beth’s waist, his face hidden in the blonde curls. She sleeping with her hand gripping his arm as if trying to make sure that he won’t leave her during the night. Their legs barely touching but heartbeats echoing against each other. They’re so close together that Enid’s hand going for Beth’s shoulder wakes the Dixon.

Enid ignores how he has pulled his knife before coming to his senses, too scared to even notice it, maybe. ‘Beth! Beth wake up! _Harlan_!’

The doctor and the sister are awake instantly. Daryl rolls away to give his sister room and watches how she crawls over to Maggie, who’s gasping for breath on the bed.

‘Airway,’ Harlan says before he even reaches the bed. ‘Check her-‘

‘Swollen,’ Beth answers. ‘It’s too late for an allergic attack, why-‘

‘We’ll worry about why later. Grab my kit.’

Daryl sits back down in his corner and watches how the two work on Maggie. There are tubes and connector pieces, talk about painkillers and narcotics, the words too foreign for him to make sense of them. A needle goes into Maggie’s arm and she trashes more before going still again. Another needle, something measured by the light of a candle.

Running footsteps down the corridor and Alex bursts into the room. ‘What’s going on?’

Harlan tells him but Alex doesn’t approach the bed. The doctor and Beth have it under control for now.

The nurse looks down at the teenager on the ground. Hair mussed from sleep and eyes soft with fear and confusion. He’s biting his nails while staring at the bed. Alex carefully lowers himself down onto the floor as well. Slowly, like he’s not sure whether he’s welcome.

‘Want me to explain to you what happened?’ he offers.

Daryl nods.

Enid sits down next to the Dixon.

Alex explains that Maggie hadn’t been able to breathe, how they’d cleared her airway and that it’s back to waiting again. His words are small and carefully chosen, simple enough for two scared kids from an apocalypse. Daryl likes that though he’ll be embarrassed in the morning. He doesn’t care right now.

He sits and stares at Maggie’s form, and he’s glad that both Enid and Alex stay.

 

 

The meeting is held at dawn. The sunlight, peeking in through the blinds, soft and fragile this early in the morning, feels like knives to his sensitive eyes. He rubs at them with the back of his hand. It doesn’t help. He tucks his baseball cap lower over his hair instead.

 The road back from Washington had been nerve-wrecking. The night was long. Every limb feels ten times heavier than normal. He feels sluggish, slow, sick, too tired to listen to the various voices bouncing around the room.

There’s Paul who pleads that the prisoner should be put to work in a different community or held at the kingdom. He trust neither Rick or Dwight to take the prisoner to their respective homes, fearing the man would not last a night, or be set free. His voice is clear and ringing now that he feels like he’s Hilltop’s only voice.

Kal is messing around with his shuriken. Dante looks a little lost between the legends from Alexandria.

Rick hasn’t voiced his opinion yet and Merle is tending to Hershel, like he has been doing since Maggie collapsed. The baby on his arm, looking out of the window how one of the women lets the horses out of the barn. Daryl is just thankful that Hershel is quiet and that Merle blocks most of the sunlight with his large frame.

 Michonne wants the man to be locked up but insists that he should be taken to Alexandria, the only place with a real prison.

Rick shifts his weight and everyone looks at him. ‘Dare. What do you think should happen?’

Daryl turns his hat around because Michonne always tells him to do so when they’re talking.. He leans forward on the table and shrugs. ‘Think we should let him go back with Dwight, to the Sanctuary. Get some thick chains, seal every exit and set it on fucking fire, man. We’re done tryin’. They chose to stay in that fucking pit. That’s on them.’

Michonne looks shocked.

Merle slowly turns around.

Daryl glances at Dwight. ‘I should have killed you when I had the fucking chance. All y’all.’

‘Daryl, if we had known that he would-‘

‘If I had known this would happen, you would have died screaming in that godforsaken forest we met in. I don’t care about what you did for me, or to me. One of yours tried to kill Maggie. That’s on you. I say we burn him alive and I’d like it if the rest of your kind burned with him.’

Rick shakes his head.

‘Fine,’ Daryl sucks on his teeth. ‘If I can’t do that… I want him dead. Executed for attempted murder. The death penalty, right? New world old rules.’

Paul closes his eyes for a moment and then turns to Rick, ‘we can’t just reinstall the death penalty! Where does it end, Rick? Where does it _start_? So we’re just going to convict crimes that happened this week and the ones in the future? What about what we did? Is someone going to pass judgement on that?’

‘We did it to protect our family,’ Daryl objects. ‘Our people!’

‘He would argue the same!’ Paul says. ‘That’s what Negan said, too. He saved people, right?’

‘Fuck that asshole, he don’t have anything to do with this, man!’

Paul works his jaw and sits back in his chair. ‘Not everyone believes that setting them free was a good thing, Daryl. There are people who want him back. And one of them came here to kill Maggie, another will come for Rick, no doubt.’

‘Which is why we gotta get rid of them all! I’ve been sayin’ this all along and _nobody fucking listens to_ -‘

‘Dare,’ Michonne says sharply. ‘Stop raising your voice.’

He swallows the last of the sentence and just glares at his knees instead.

‘We don’t know if more will come. Maybe it was just a loner –‘ Rick says with a shake of his head, ‘we can’t worry about that right now.’ He falls silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts. ‘But Daryl is right. We should kill him.’

Daryl’s head snaps up.

Paul’s eyes go big.

‘Rick,’ Michonne says softly as she reaches for his hand. ‘Please listen to-‘

‘No. He came here with the intend to kill her. The dose, if she had swallowed it all, would have been enough to kill her within minutes. Not a bullet, not a knife, nothing quick. He wanted her to suffer for as long as possible before dying. We won’t grand him the same ending,’ Rick says, ‘but he _will_ die.’

Paul stands up, ‘he’s Hilltop’s prisoner, you can’t decide-‘

Rick stands up too. So calm that it’s frightening. A hand comes to rest upon his python. ‘He tried to kill my sister. Beth’s sister. Hershel’s mother. Dare’s mother. Our blood. Don’t tell me what I can and cannot do to the ones who wrong _us_. It will happen tomorrow morning, at dawn.’

‘How?’ Paul asks, trying to delay the process already. ‘Are you just going to shoot him right there and then?’

‘Wouldn’t want to waste a bullet.’

Paul sinks down on the chair and runs his hands over his face and his long hair, breathing shallowly. ‘You can’t be serious. Rick – you _can’t_.’

‘We’ll hang him,’ Rick says, ‘or-‘

‘I’ll do it,’ Daryl stands up. ‘We’ll take him out into the forest and I’ll put a bolt between his eyes, or the back of his head. It’s quiet. If we hang him someplace? Still gotta get the brain or he might get one of us eventually. Hassle, man.’

‘Daryl, please,’ Paul breathes.

Dante looks sick. ‘No, what – you guys can’t be serious, that isn’t even an option!’

Rick meets the youngest Dixon’s eyes. ‘You’re right,’ he says. ‘Dawn.’

‘Dawn,’ Daryl agrees.

He leaves Rick to the shouting of Paul and Michonne, of Kal’s confused questions and Dwight’s protestations. He slips back upstairs.

Beth is reading one of her books and doesn’t ask what the outcome was. She’d refused to attend the meeting at all. ‘Still stable,’ she tells him.

‘Can you sing me something? Anything?’ Daryl asks as he sits down in his corner and puts his hands over his ears, pressing so hard it hurts everywhere. It doesn’t take long for Beth’s voice to penetrate the pain.

Not any song he knows. One just for him.

 

 

Shouting and angry scuffles. Rick with a scratch on his cheek and Paul with bleeding knuckles and a katana pressing into his neck. Chairs kicked aside, toppling over and glasses breaking. Hershel who starts crying.

Beth gets up and closes the door.

Muffled sounds of a fight. Male voices lashing out to draw blood on souls. Boots stomping on wooden floors. Doors slamming, arguments being picked up later when nothing has calmed down and everything still feels like a minefield.

Beth sits down in front of him, leans forward to press their foreheads together.

It’s the shouting and the glass breaking and knowing that his family is hurting. That he’s done something he thinks is good but is terrible and how he’s scared that he’ll never get it right because it already feels so right. It’s the disappointment in Paul’s eyes and now the anger in his voice, but it’s also Rick’s deceptively calm demeanor that he knows can unleash hell with just a flash of teeth. A quietness that cuts deeper than any belt.

Beth sings like it’s just the two of them. Like Harlan isn’t studying his reaction, like Enid isn’t unsure of what to do in the other corner, like Maggie isn’t still unconscious on the bed.

She sings and sings and sings whispered words of spring in his ear.

 

 

Color has returned to Maggie’s cheeks even though she hasn’t woken up yet the next morning. Daryl silently puts his bow onto his back and wonders how on earth he has managed to sleep at all. He’s not nervous, not for what he’s about to do, he’s been doing it for so long already that it’s almost muscle memory anyway.

Maybe he’s nervous what Maggie will say when she wakes up. She wouldn’t want him to do this, he knows that. She’ll be disappointed but not surprised.

He doesn’t know which is worse

It won’t matter in the end.

None of it will.

Beth is still asleep next to her sister, with Enid on her other side. Harlan has gone back to the medical trailer now that most of the danger has faded.

He closes the door softly behind him and makes his way downstairs and then outside. Past the trailers and the barn, to the gates where Rick said he’d be waiting for him.

The gates are already open.

Daryl frowns and quickens his pace.

He knows something is wrong when he sees Rick and Paul standing there, talking softly. The anger is gone. There’s no hostility in Paul’s posture and Rick has his arms folded as he looks out over the fields in front of Hilltop Colony.

Daryl walks up to them and narrows his eyes. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Four hours ago, three cars left Hilltop Colony. They went in three different directions and they will drive for twenty five miles and then stop,’ Rick says thoughtfully. ‘One of them has the guy. He’ll be dropped at their destination. He has a bottle of water and food for two days.’ Rick looks at him. ‘He’s been banished from all communities.’

‘You fucking coward,’ Daryl whispers.

‘You’re the best hunter we have, you could follow the tracks,’ Rick offers. ‘But you have to pick one at random. Your chances of getting it right is about 33 percent. Decent odds. It’ll take you a while to get there though, and Maggie could wake up any moment now. So what’s more important to you, Dare? A shot at revenge, or your family?’

‘My family, that’s why I offered to do it, and you’re-

‘I let you do it once,’ Rick says before walking off. ‘I won’t lose you again. It didn’t bring Shane back. It didn’t help. Maggie is alive. Focus on that.’

Daryl grits his teeth when he feels tears burning in his eyes. He glares at Paul. ‘So, what? This was some sort of sick test or something? Haha, Dare is still a psychopath.’

Paul shakes his head but doesn’t say anything. He walks away.

 

 

Merle doesn’t say anything when Daryl puts his knife on the table. He hangs his crossbow onto his brother’s chair. Puts his gun down. The ballpoint pen he likes to keep in his pocket. He takes his belt off, too. The buckle is pretty sharp.

‘That’s all.’

‘Good. Ain’t nothing there, neither.’

‘Good,’ Daryl echoes.

‘Cut your nails?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Shit, monster.’

‘Don’t,’ Daryl says, ‘please just don’t.’

Merle gets up with a grunt and walks over. He looks down at his baby brother. ‘I’m proud of you. ‘s hard to admit you need help.’

‘Broken brain,’ Daryl murmurs. ‘I just want to – I just _want to_ , you know? It helped and I’m – I feel – I don’t want to but….’

‘Come here,’ Merle hugs him tightly and then lifts him up to carry him to the small bedroom they will share until Daryl stops dreaming of new scars.

 

 

 


	29. Moonshine and Gin

 

* * *

 

 

 

‘I was having fun.’

Merle looks up from his bible. He’s stretched out on the bed, lazily flipping through the pages until he comes across his favorite passages. Some he will read out loud for his brother, who is curled up on the bed next to him, others he keeps to himself. His gaze wanders to Daryl.

The teenager is on his side, scarred back to his brother so he can stare out of the window. It’s a cloudy day, though they both know it will clear up later. Slim fingers play with his jewelry. The short hair is a mess and there are marks on his cheek from the pillow.

‘What?’ Merle asks because the admission comes out of nowhere.

‘I was having fun while Maggie was being poisoned.’

His big brother sighs and puts the bible aside. ‘You could have been takin’ a shit and it wouldn’t have made a difference. Hell, I was standing right next to her and it didn’t make a lick of difference.’

‘Just don’t feel right.’

Merle puts a hand on his brother’s shoulder and pulls, forcing the boy to roll over and face him. ‘You’re the only one who thinks you’ve failed her. And I ain’t just talkin’ about you not being here. There wasn’t anything you could have done to help her. You came as soon as you heard, and you sat by her side the whole time. There’s nothing more you could have done, monster.’

Daryl nods.

‘And you didn’t fail anyone by wanting that guy dead. You got this idea that…’ Merle searches for the right words. ‘You think you gotta be perfect. You gotta work all day and never rest. You gotta help everyone, be able to do anything and take three nightshifts when everyone else does two. And if you don’t, ‘cause you’re sick or not feeling right, or just fucking tired? You think you’re a lazy piece of shit and you think everyone else thinks that, too.’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl says while staring at his brother’s shoulder.

‘And you gotta be a saint too. You gotta be fair and patient and kind, always. You can’t ever just be pissed at the world ‘cause it took so goddamn much from you that you just want to fucking murder something, right? Can’t do that ‘cause what might someone think of you slaying some walkers to feel better, huh? Can’t want a guy dead because he tried to kill your mom, ‘cause people will think you’re crazy, ain’t that right?’

‘They do think I’m fucking crazy.’

‘That why you want to scratch yourself up? Because they think you’re crazy?’

Daryl shakes his head. ‘Promised I’d be better,’ he murmurs while pressing his face into the pillow.

‘And what’s better? Huh? You’d be this all-forgiving guy who pardons those who tried to kill your kin? He weren’t innocent, monster. You _are_ better. Maggie and I? We see it every fucking day. You’re out there teaching Savior kids to survive, you’re doing all your chores and homework and still find time to give Maggie a break with Hershey. Found a new community, charmed the fucking pants off of them if we gotta believe Jesus ‘nd Beth. Drew the line at delivering messages to the sanctuary. Fuck,’ Merle grins, ‘was so goddamn proud of you for saying; “hell no, let someone else do that.” Fucking proud of you now, too. Ain’t easy to need help, but you asked for it anyway.’

‘Still wanted him dead.’

Merle quirks an eyebrow. ‘What’s wrong with that? He tried to Kill Maggie. You wanted him dead. Rick wanted him banished. Same damn thing, just a different name. He ain’t ever going to make it, Monster. Twenty-five miles out? That’s a death sentence.’ Merle stretches. ‘And we can’t all be saints like Jesus. Locking him up? Pfft. Fuck that.’

‘They did it with Negan. What’s the difference?’

‘Negan would have made it, monster. Twenty-five miles out is just a new Sanctuary for guys like that. And people know that he’s out there still? Some might change their minds about kneelin’ for Rick or Maggie instead. Ezekiel wouldn’t be no king of theirs. They know he ain’t shit now.’

Daryl sighs and rubs at one eye. ‘It’s just hard to know what’s right sometimes. Rick wanted me to do it, but Paul freaked out, and-‘

‘Rick never wanted you to do it, monster, come on,’ Merle says while rolling onto his back. He scratches at his chest.

‘I heard y’all fighting.’

‘’s just them fallin’ over themselves to try ‘nd protect you. Why the hell did you think Rick stalled until next dawn? Would have been plenty of time to drag that guy out into the forest and put a bolt into his eye, but he made you wait until dawn. He needed time to get the vehicles and people ready, man. And he needed you to sleep easy so you wouldn’t hear the cars leave. Tricked you, is all.’

Daryl sits up with a frown. ‘Then why was Paul mad?’

Merle shrugs. ‘First he thought the same thing as you did, freaked out over Rick lettin’ you do that. Then he thought Rick were tryna fool him, right? Got mad again. Get even more mad when he figured out Rick really were just takin’ you for a spin. Apparently it makes your _trust issues_ worse,’ Merle gives him a pointed look and then starts to laugh. ‘Imagine that.’

‘I got trust issues?’ Daryl asks with a grin.

Merle laughs harder. ‘Shit, you think? You think it started with your dad being a piece of shit or your mom just suddenly being ripped out of your life like that?’

‘I dunno, man,’ Daryl groans while covering his eyes, ‘could it have been my brother leavin’ my ass behind without saying a damn thing?’

‘No, no,’ Merle smacks him in the face to cover his mouth, ‘it weren’t that, man!’ He pulls his brother half on top of him, looping an arm around those broad shoulder and kissing the crown of his head to make stop struggling. He laughs softly. ‘Trust issues. That goddamn hippie. I swear to God.’

‘You’re all lyin’ sacks of shits, so he got a point, man.’

‘Of course he got a point,’ Merle scoffs. ‘That don’t mean he got to be the one makin’ it. Rick shoutin’ Jesus don’t know shit about you and how you deal with stuff, Jesus whining about how Rick is doing a fucked up job raisin’ ya. Let them fight it out. Maggie and I will be here to pick up the pieces as usual.’ He looks at his brother for a moment. ‘I tried for ten years, but she’s doing it.’ He cups his brother’s cheek. ‘And she’s doing a damn fine job. And so are you. You’re a good person, man.’

Daryl sighs and rubs at the bridge of his nose. ‘You think so?’

‘Yeah.’ Merle’s tone is softer than usual. ‘I think so.’

‘Thanks. I’m feeling better.’

‘’cause I’m talking so sweet now?’

Daryl laughs and stomps his brother. ‘Yeah, got some more compliments to feed my ego?’

‘What ego,’ Merle snorts. ‘People treatin’ ya like a damn king and you still think you’re the dog shit under their shoes. _Straighten that spine, boy._ ’

‘ _You just gonna take it like a little bitch_?’ Daryl growls, his voice effortlessly copying Will’s just as Merle’s had done on that last sentence. He pushes and pulls at his brother’s shoulder before trying to get him in a headlock, ‘ _someone took your balls, put them in their back pocket or something? You finally gonna be a real Dixon, you spineless piece of shit_?’

The older Dixon laughs while wrestling with his little brother. They’ve both heard the backhanded compliments and absurd motivational insults so many times that they still sound like home. ‘ _You hold that head high, boy,_ ’ Merle growls as he flips Daryl over, trying to pin his arms down but the teenager easily slips out of his grip. ‘ _You show people that messed up face of yours_!’

Daryl sniggers. ‘He looked just like you!’

‘I know, right? Dumb son of a bitch,’ Merle laughs.

‘He always called me a girl.’

‘It’s ‘cause you’re so precious ‘nd pretty, Darlina.’ Merle reaches up to pinch his cheek. It earns him an elbow to his stomach.

They play fight for a couple of minutes, sock-clad feet leaving red spots but never bruises. Daryl gets his brother in a headlock at last and giggles while licking his brother’s ear to creep him out but Merle reaches up to grab his tongue and then just holds it while laughing at the youngest Dixon. Neither of them notice that the door opens, or that Michonne stands there for a couple of minutes. They only look up when she knocks loudly.

‘Merle?’ She smiles at the two brothers on the bed. ‘Next shift change is in fifteen minutes.’

Daryl sits on the edge of the bed and runs a hand through his short hair. Nobody ever needs to tell Merle when the next shift change is. He’s never late for his guard duty. He pushes himself off the bed and puts his jeans back on. ‘You can go,’ he tells his brother. ‘I’m gonna go get some breakfast anyway.’

‘You sure, bro? We can take the day if you wanna.’

‘Get out of bed, ya lazy asshole,’ Daryl snorts, reaching back to grab his pillow and smash it against Merle’s shoulder.

Merle gives him a small smile before turning to Michonne. He stretches, one hand roaming over his naked chest. ‘What about you? Wanna take the day?’ He pats the bed with a sleazy grin.

Michonne gives him a look. ‘You’re so gross.’

Daryl sniggers as he puts his shirt on.

‘Oh, he likes that! Old Merle gettin’ shut down. That’s fine,’ Merle sits up and starts to put his clothes on, too. ‘Got a line of ladies waiting anyway. Wanted to make you a sweet deal, but if you want to wait for a little bit more? Play hard to get? I’m down with that. Hmm-hmm-hmm.’

Michonne looks at the younger Dixon. ‘If you start taking after him, I’m locking you in your room until you’re twenty-one. He’s a lost cause, but you?’

‘Lots of exciting stuff happenin’ when I turn twenty-one,’ Daryl laughs. ‘Can’t fucking wait.’

Merle frowns. ‘What’s he talking about? Hey! What does that mean?’

‘Err,’ he stumbles while putting his boots on, ‘means I can get a tattoo, man. Can’t be a real tattoo artist without havin’ any ink, that’s gonna look stupid!

‘Legal age for a tattoo is eighteen, you idiot.’ Merle looks from Michonne to his brother, ‘and the fucking world ended! Who’s going to stop you from – who’s even going to fucking ink you?’

‘I’ll find someone,’ Daryl says, biting back a grin.

‘Oh, I’m sure you will,’ Michonne says with a knowing look.

The teenager laughs and blushes before darting forward and hugging her tightly. ‘Thanks. Is Kiss with Beth?’

‘Aaron took him outside. He was fussing and Beth needed some good sleep. She’s still with Maggie.’

‘Enid?’

‘Having breakfast – and Rick is taking a shower,’ Michonne says with a fond smile. ‘Everyone accounted for?’

He nods and rubs at his nose. ‘Sorry. Just get a little…’ he shrugs and suddenly regrets the haircut. There’s no long hair to hide his burning ears or the embarrassment in his eyes. ‘I’m gonna go grab my shit ‘nd head down.’

Before he can go, Michonne pulls him into another hug. She doesn’t say anything but her fingers dip into his angel wings when he relaxes against her.

 

 

With his weapons safely back in their holsters and sheaths, and his crossbow on his back again, he walks into the dining room. It’s still early so it’s busy. It almost surprises him that the room doesn’t fall silent when he enters. People raise hands and dip their chins at the sight of him, smiles blooming on their faces.

He nods back warily.

Alex, Kal and Paul are sitting together at a table. The scout spots him first, worry flashing over his face as he quickly gets up and makes his way over. The nurse looks resigned. His shoulders slump until he shrugs when Kal whispers something at him.

‘Daryl,’ Paul says when he’s finally within earshot. His voice is low and soft, eyes darting left and right as if someone might be listening in. ‘How are you?’

‘Fine,’ Daryl mutters. His hand curls around the strap of his bow.

‘If you need to talk, we can go outside,’ Paul offers, ‘or I can get Harlan, or maybe Alex? They can-‘

‘Pfft. Breakfast is all I need, man.’

‘Look,’ Paul steps closer to him, ‘I know why you and Merle-‘

‘Good morning.’ An arm slides around Daryl’s shoulders and the teenager is so used to the contact that he brings his own arm up to put his hand on Rick’s shoulder as well. Rick’s curls are still glistening from his shower. His eyes are cold when he looks at Paul. ‘Slept well, Dare?’

‘You ever slept next to Merle? If he ain’t kicking you, he’s snoring in your ear. Good lord.’ He shoots the cop a grin when the man looks down at him. ‘Not bad.’

Rick smiles and ruffles his short hair before pushing at the back of his head to steer him towards the kitchen. ‘Go grab this old man some breakfast.’

 There are already two steaming plates waiting for him when he steps into the kitchen. The cooks glance his way and then busy themselves with their chores. Cheri, who runs the kitchen crew, rolls her eyes at her staff’s behavior and asks him how Maggie is doing this morning and who is going to check the snares.

The lingering smile on Daryl’s face melts away when he comes back. Rick and Paul are standing toe-to-toe. Their noses would be touching if Rick wasn’t staring at the ground on his right. Paul is talking in a low voice. Rick is silent.

Anyone else would think that Rick is cowering.

Daryl darts forward and throws the two plates onto the table before pushing Paul back forcefully. There’s nothing more dangerous than Rick, falling silent and giving you the chance to back off before he makes you.

‘What the hell are you doin’?’ the teenager asks. His hand lingers in Paul’s sternum to keep him away from Rick.

Rick finally looks up, eyes dark and dangerous. ‘Just a misunderstanding, Dare.’

Daryl narrows his own eyes. ‘You two seem to be havin’ that a lot.’

‘You should make up your mind,’ Rick tells the scout as he grabs the two plates and heads over to the table where Enid is already waiting for them. Her eyes are wide. The spoon is frozen half-way towards her mouth.

Daryl glances up at Paul but doesn’t like the lingering anger in his blue eyes. ‘Cut it out,’ he says before following the former sheriff. It doesn’t surprise him that Paul doesn’t join them. The scout’s gaze burns in the back of Daryl’s neck as soon as he sits down though. Whenever he looks over his shoulder, Paul pretends to play with his food.

‘How’s Judith?’ Enid asks.

Rick’s eyes light up instantly. ‘Great! Although… Carl likes to sit on the roof of the gazebo we’ve built in the town square, so guess who’s trying to climb it if you take your eyes of off them for _one_ second. She wants to be just like her big brother.’

‘What’s he sitting on the roof for?’ Daryl asks with a snort. ‘What a hippie.’

Rick laughs and shakes his head. ‘He thinks nobody can find him there. As it turns out, leading a community is a twenty-four hour kind of job. A lot of people have a lot of questions.’

The teenager nods. ‘They ain’t comin’ to you?’

‘Of course, but I try to leave some things up to him. He’s learning.’

‘He’s good at it. The way he were at Washington? Was good, man.’

Rick beams with pride.

Daryl grins.

‘He said the same thing about you.’

Daryl shrugs. ‘I got us in, but I didn’t do much after. It was Carl, Monica ‘nd Paul. Beth with the vaccines. She tell you about that yet?’

‘She did,’ Rick nods. ‘I’m grateful.’

‘Kicker won’t be,’ Daryl laughs. ‘I remember I got one of my shots once, and my arm felt real stiff afterwards. Hurt, right? So I told my dad and every time I complained he’d punch me somewhere else to make that spot hurt, so I’d…’ he trails off when he reaches for his glass and sees that Enid is staring at him with wide eyes again.

‘So it’d hurt somewhere else and you couldn’t complain about your arm anymore?’ Rick guesses. There’s no judgement in his eyes. He just looks resigned as he dips his toast in some eggs.

‘Yeah.’

‘I’d promised Carl a stuffed animal when he got his,’ Rick says. ‘A dinosaur. Not just any dinosaur though – a very specific one, I don’t remember what it was called. He was obsessed with them. So he got his shots and I took him to the toy store. Guess what?’

‘No dinosaur?’

‘Not the one he wanted. There were hundred of them but not the -whatever it was. So, on to the next store…’ He gives Daryl a look.

‘Not his fucking dinosaur.’

‘We must have gone to twenty stores and we couldn’t find it, and he just – he had a meltdown. But not his usual – no. A _meltdown_. I had to call my mom to ask what the hell I was supposed to do about it. I could calm him down with some coaching eventually but –‘  Rick shakes his head. ‘What a disaster.’

Enid laughs.

‘Sounds like him,’ Daryl grins. ‘Why didn’t you call Lori?’

Rick waves a hand. ‘It would have just proven her point. That I was away too much, that I didn’t know anything about my own son. Next time he had to have shots or anything like that – I got him ice cream.’

‘One time I were jumpin’ the trailers with my friend – you could jump from one trailer to the next and cross the whole site, right? So were jumping and suddenly Will were there. Said I had to come home for dinner, so I wanted to find somewhere to climb down but he told me to jump. Been actin’ like a monkey all day, right? So I should just jump down.’

Rick nods.

‘So I did – it were way too high. Broke my ankle.’

Enid gasps, ‘he let you jump from a trailer? How old were you?’

‘I dunno, seven? I think he were drunk when he told me to jump. Hurt real bad!’ Daryl wriggles his eyebrows. ‘Got all the ice cream I wanted for _a whole week_. Even got the chocolate sprinkles on them, even though it’d cost extra.’

Rick smirks, so used to the strange stories that he can hide any sadness he’s feeling when hearing them. ‘Was it worth it?’

The teenager wrinkles his nose, ‘kinda… I got ice cream for a week, only hurt like a bitch for two days or something. He’d even carry me to bed, be real nice for a while… yeah. Worth it, man.’

‘He just felt guilty,’ Enid says.

‘So?’ Daryl glances at her with confusion in his eyes. ‘He were nice to me…’

‘He should have been nice to you because he loved you, not because he told you to jump from a trailer!’

‘What the hell do you know, you dumb-‘

‘Apologize.’ Rick’s voice is sharp.

Daryl works his jaw for a moment and then looks at Enid. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… almost call you names?’

The corner of Rick’s mouth quirks upwards.

Daryl laughs. He kicks Enid’s foot under the table. ‘Sorry. Don’t like it when people talk about my dad like that. Touchy subject.’

‘Yeah… okay. Sorry,’ she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear before glancing at Rick. ‘When are you going back home?’

‘Tomorrow, if nothing changes.’

‘Would it – I mean, would it be okay if I came back with you? Just for a little while?’

Rick smiles and pushes his plate aside. ‘I think Carl would like that a lot, yes.’ He stands up. ‘Dare, let’s go check your snares.’

 

 

It feels strangely familiar to walk through the woods with Rick. The cop follows him silently, head bowed and not minding his surroundings too much. He seems to be lost in thought. The snarl of a walker makes him look up, but it already falls with a bolt in its left eye.

Daryl walks over and yanks it back out, smearing gore on the walker’s clothes before putting the bolt back in his quiver. He leads Rick to the snares via a longer route just because he likes the smell of the forest this early in the morning. He feels lighter with grass under his feet, happier when leaves brush over his bare arms and the sun kisses his cheek.

They don’t talk.

Rick follows where Daryl leads and doesn’t comment when they suddenly take a sharp left where they should have gone right. He just hops over a low fence, ducks after the teenager into an abandoned building that once belonged to a farm. Follows him up a creaking wooden ladder and up a roof.

Daryl is already sitting on the edge of the roof, feet dangling down and cigarette tucked into the corner of his mouth. He lights a match with one fluid stroke and inhales the toxic air gladly.

‘And I kept wondering who taught Carl to sit on every roof he can find,’ Rick says as he sits down next to him. ‘ _What a hippie_.’

Daryl grins. ‘He wants to be like his cooler big brother.’ He puffs up his chest, ‘can’t blame him.’ Then he looks out over the tree tops and motions with his cigarette. ‘Look.’

The light breaks on the dew. It gives the whole world a magical glow.

‘Beautiful.’

Daryl nods. ‘Yeah.’

They sit in silence for a long time. The teenager swings his feet and the grown man watches the sunrise with awe. When the cigarette is finished, Daryl ends it on the rotting wood next to him. He takes a deep breath.

‘I still think we should have killed him. He tried to kill Maggie.’

‘We would have, if he’d succeeded.’

Daryl nods. ‘I ain’t sorry about wanting him dead.’ He glances at Rick. ‘But I’m sorry if I let you down.’

Rick huffs out a breath of almost-laughter. Without having to look, he hooks his hand around Daryl’s warm neck, rubbing at the muscles there, scratching at the short hair. He pulls him closer. ‘You didn’t let me down, Dare. I’m sorry for making you think that. That wasn’t my intention. I was trying to protect you.’

‘I know. Talked to Merle.’

Rick squeezes his neck. ‘I’m really glad you did.’

Daryl brings his hand up so he can chew on his thumb. ‘Just got too much. Everyone were screaming and then I thought I’d fucked it all up – seeing Maggie like that, thinking about what would happen if she wakes up.’ He glances up. ‘I’d promised to try harder.’

‘Do you think that that guy would still be drawing breath if he’d poisoned you?’

Daryl flashes him a shy grin. ‘Well, no… but…’

‘He’d be dead a hundred times,’ Rick whispers as he draws him closer, kissing the boy’s temple. ‘She’d just be the first in line to draw the blade.’

‘Stop,’ Daryl murmurs but he doesn’t push the man away. Just leans into his side a bit more. ‘Why’re you fighting with Paul?’

Rick laughs softly, looping his arm around him, hand over the boy’s heart. ‘There’s a lot he doesn’t know or understand about us.’

‘Sometimes I don’t understand us.’

‘You understand this,’ Rick says as his fingers tighten against his heart.

 

 

Paul is standing in front of the large bookcases with Hershel on his arm. The baby doesn’t seem to be too interested in the books, or what Paul is telling him. He’s chewing on the collar of the scout’s shirt, brown eyes wide and innocent, black tufts of hair sticking out in all directions. As soon as he sees the youngest Dixon appear in the doorway, he starts to whimper.

‘What’s wrong? No, no,’ Paul says softly as he tries to look at the baby’s face, ‘why’re you crying? We were doing so good. Shit!’

Daryl bites on his lip and leans against the doorpost, arms crossed in front of his broad chest.

‘Please stop, hush, hush,’ Paul says while bobbing the baby who is now reaching for his brother. ‘What do you want? What- oh.’ Paul relaxes when he spots Daryl. ‘Can you take him?’

‘I could,’ Daryl walks over and kisses Hershel’s chubby hands and then throws himself onto the couch by the window, basking in the sunshine like a cat, stretching out to claim all the space. ‘Tired, man. He’ll cut it out in a second. Can’t have everything he wants.’

‘You and me both, buddy,’ Paul says to Hershel as he looks at how Daryl’s shirt rode up to reveal is toned stomach and trial of light hair leading down.

‘Got your own morals to blame for that one, man.’

‘Have you met your family? I’d like to keep my balls, thank you.’

Daryl laughs. ‘Good point, I think I’d prefer you with them, too.’ He pretends to check the time on a non-existent watch. ‘Just four more years, man.’

‘I thought you were sixteen.’

‘Who the hell knows anymore.’

Paul laughs and shakes his head. He pushes his nose in Hershel’s cheek which makes him giggle. ‘Your big brother is crazy!’

The teenager grins and blushes at the same time. He pulls his shirt down as he settles on the couch. When the laughter has died between them, he peeks up at the scout, who’s walking along the bookcase, inspecting the spines. ‘I talked to Rick. We’re good.’

Paul makes a thoughtful noise. ‘Good.’

Daryl works his jaw. ‘Yeah…’

The scout nods. After a couple of seconds he sighs and looks at the teenager. ‘I wasn’t trying to stick my nose in, I was just… I was trying to help.’

‘I know. But maybe next time, you can just… trust me to do something about it if I ain’t feeling right? I don’t like it when people make a big deal out of it, or treat me different. Some people were suddenly real nice today, ya know? ‘s stupid. Makes me feel worse than if you just pretend everything’s normal.’

‘But everything is _not_ normal, Daryl. You’re-‘

‘Old enough to decide for myself if I need _your_ help. And I don’t, man. I don’t need another Merle, another Rick, another Aaron, Ezekiel – you ain’t like them, man. We ain’t ever going to be like that!’

‘ _Friends_ look after each other, Daryl! And I think the way everyone dances around any issue with you is unhealthy.’

‘Ain’t dancing around nothing! I talked to Rick, on _my own_ terms. When I wanted to, not at fucking breakfast with half the colony lookin’ at me to see if I’d slit my wrists yet!’

Paul closes his eyes.

‘Sorry,’ Daryl mutters. He rubs at his left eye. ‘I’m just sorry.’

‘Me too.’

Paul reaches up to smooth Hershel’s hair down. The baby has gone back to chewing on his collar now he can’t see his brother anymore. He’s fussy, making soft noises and moving his legs restlessly against the man’s chest. Paul sighs as he looks back to the teenager. ‘Rick told me to figure out whether I want to be your guardian, friend or lover.’

Daryl smirks at the ceiling. He yawns theatrically to make his shirt ride up again. ‘Guess you should.’

‘You’re not helping.’

‘Thought we were friends, man,’ he says with a leering look.

‘We are,’ Paul says firmly. ‘Good luck to Rick, Maggie and Merle with the guardianship. And I’ll take a case of Casper’s moonshine to your future lover. They’re going to need it.’

Daryl pouts. He swings his legs back and stands up, holding his hands out for Hershel, who is already reaching for him, too. A smile spreads over his features when Paul transfers the boy to him. ‘Hey Kiss, were you being so good for that meanie? Huh? Yeah! Yeah, you were.’

Hershel’s hand curls around the edge of his shirt. His head comes to rest on one shoulder, utterly content.

‘He never does that with me,’ Paul sulks as he sits down on the armrest of the couch.

‘It’s because you’re mean and we hate you.’

Paul lets one boot rest on the couch and puts his elbow on his knee. His index finger traces his lower lip.

Daryl is captivated by the movement.

‘Want to make out?’ Paul asks.

Color explodes onto Daryl’s face. His ears burn, his cheeks glow, heat is even dripping down his neck to stain his chest red. He splutters, hands immediately trembling against Hershel’s back. He tilts his chin higher and tries to save face by saying; ‘ _yeah_! I mean… sure.’

Paul starts to laugh so loud that his boot slips off the couch.

‘ _Mean_!’ Daryl moans. He straightens, ‘and I got a boyfriend anyway! Well- I think I have a boyfriend. So… we can’t make out.’

Paul folds a hand over his mouth to stifle his own laughter. He quirks an eyebrow. ‘You _think_?’ he asks, voice muffled and light with laughter.

‘I totally do! Stop laughing!’

The door opens and a woman walks in. She heads straight to the bookcase, putting two books back and scanning the shelves for new ones. Her gaze jumps to Paul for a moment but she doesn’t say anything.

Paul pushes a strand of long hair behind his ear and gets up. He’s still smiling. ‘I’m heading home. I’ll see you later, Daryl.’ In the passing, he puts his hand on Daryl’s shoulder, squeezing it.

When his footsteps have faded, the woman looks at Daryl. ‘It’s nice to hear him laugh like that,’ she says.

‘He was laughing _at_ me.’

She shoots him a grin. ‘Still.’

 

 

Maggie wakes up with a gasp. Eyes wide but dazed, limbs jerking like she’s trying to get away from something. It doesn’t help that Alex immediately puts his hands on her shoulders to push her down again. She whimpers, hand searching her side for a weapon.

‘I’m here,’ Daryl says as he gets up and walks towards the bed. ‘Maggie. I’m right here.’

‘Dare,’ she breathes, hand now searching for him instead. ‘Dare- where- you –where-‘

‘Everyone is fine. Try to relax.’

‘Glenn,’ Maggie whispers. ‘Where’s Glenn?’

Daryl works his jaw and manages to smile. He reaches out to tuck her dark hair behind her ear. ‘He’s getting firewood with Shane. They’ll be back soon.’

Maggie nods. It only takes her seconds to fall back asleep.

Alex scratches at his cheek. ‘She’s just confused. It’ll come back to her when she wakes up again.’

‘I know, Harlan warned me it could happen.’ Daryl takes Maggie slightly cold hand in his. ‘Weird how you can just forget shit like that.’

‘She didn’t forget it,’ Alex says. ‘The body and brain can only handle so much stress. Traumatic events can be repressed. It’s a coping mechanism.’

‘Yeah…’

The nurse shifts his weight. ‘Harlan will stop by in an hour or so… so…’

Daryl nods, ‘get some rest, man. Thanks.’

‘Yeah, I’ll – err… If you need me? I’ll…eh…’

Daryl frowns and looks over his shoulder. ‘What?’

Alex doesn’t meet his eye. ‘I’ll be in Jesus’ trailer.’

‘Oh.’ The teenager lets his thumb rub circles into his mon’s hand before he gets up. ‘Wait. Got something for you, for all the help, you know? Appreciate it.’ He walks over to the closet, grabbing a chair on the way there so he can climb up and grab the bag that’s been hidden on the top shelf. ‘Left-over present from Gregory.’

‘You don’t have to- oof!’ Alex grunts as he catches the bag that Daryl throws at him. Hands clumsy on the canvas, eyes going wide when he hears the tinkling of glass hitting glass. He peeks inside. ‘Gin?’

‘Yeah. Take one.’ Daryl hops down from the chair, heads back to Maggie.

‘Thank you. I’ll – err… I’ll share it with Jesus.’

‘You do that, man,’ Daryl says with a nod. He bites back a grin at the thought of Paul’s face. ‘Tell him it ain’t exactly Casper’s moonshine, but it’ll have to do in your case.’

 

 

When Maggie wakes up twenty minutes later with a clearer mind, the first thing she sees is her son’s smirk.

 

 


	30. Don't call me kid

 

* * *

 

 

 

The wind howls around him. It’s so cold that he has finally accepted Paul’s spare gloves even though they make his fingers too clumsy to use his crossbow effectively. A black bandana covers half of his face but his breath still ghosts through it, white puffs of air disappearing within seconds. The angel-winged vest over his leather jacket, and thick gray hoodie under it; it barely keeps him warm enough, especially when he’s standing still.

He’s standing on a boulder at the edge of the forest. It used to be a small parking spot off of one of the main roads. Kids used to climb on the boulder under parent’s watchful eyes even though there were signs to warn against it. The signs are gone now. The parents too.

‘Dixon! How much farther?’

Daryl glances at the man who is shouting at him. He’s from the Sanctuary. Same height as Rick but as broad as Merle, though, unlike the Dixon, it’s not because of his muscles. Despite the cold, he’s sweating buckets. His clothes aren’t practical, shoes not watertight and he keeps having to pull his jeans up.

‘Keep it down,’ Daryl says while he jumps down from the boulder. ‘There are walkers on the road ahead.’

The man huffs and holds his arms out, looking at the two women from Oceanside for support. ‘Did I ask if there are walkers on the road ahead? No. How much farther, kid?’

‘Three miles,’ Daryl answers curtly, eyes scanning the woods.

‘It can’t be three miles. We passed the five mile marker _an hour_ ago!’

‘Maybe if you moved your fat ass instead of whining all the time about how goddamn far it is,’ the teenager grumbles.

The man glares and stalks towards him. ‘What did you just say, boy?’

‘Call me boy or kid again and I’ll make sure we’ll lose you on the way back. Which way is the Sanctuary, Francis? I doubt you’ll make it back to the cars in time. Might want to save your breath, man. It’s a long walk.’

The man only stops when they’re nose to nose. There are beads of sweat on his temples, staining the already greasy blond hair. He’s glaring.

Daryl wobbles on the balls of his feet and tries not to look too bored. The man might be twice his size, but he’s got nothing on Will’s glare, or the anger that Merle can radiate. Daryl meets his eye. ‘Got a problem?’

‘Do I have a pro- yeah, you stupid punk,’ Francis snarls. ‘We should have taken the cars all the way there instead of leaving the rest behind! This _plan_ of yours? It’s going to get us all killed!’

‘Go back,’ Daryl tells him. ‘Don’t need no coward watching my six.’

‘Leave him alone,’ one of the women says while hitching her backpack higher.

‘Listen to your mom, kid,’ Francis sneers.

‘I was talking to you, asshole. Leave him alone, the plan is solid. You want to just roll up on a military base with a couple of cars? Christ. It could be overrun. It could be _taken_.’

‘It could be abandoned, and we’re all busting our balls for nothing!’

‘Really? Walking for five miles is bustin’ our balls now?’ Daryl asks. ‘You should get off your ass more.’ His gaze flickers to the woods beyond and his shoulders relax. A branch snaps behind them and Francis whirls around clumsily, almost falling over. He tries to grab his gun but fumbles, nervous fingers poking dangerously at the safety before almost dropping the whole thing. Daryl darts forward and grabs his arm, ‘it’s Paul, you moron!’

‘You don’t know that, it could be a-‘

Paul appears two seconds later, walking casually with his hands in the pockets of his long coat to keep them warm. The beanie covers cold ears and most of his face is hidden by a white bandana. He looks surprised at first but his eyes quickly narrow with suspicion when he spots Daryl. He looks at Francis next. Two hands are raised in mock-surrender. ‘It looks clear.’

‘See?’ Francis snarls while pushing Daryl away. ‘It’s clear.’

‘He might be Jesus but he can’t see through fucking walls,’ Daryl huffs before walking to the scout. ‘Fences, walls?’

‘Gates are open, couple of walkers wandering around, no people. The front door is open.’

‘Does the mat say _welcome_ though?’

Paul frowns at him, ‘I’m sorry?’

Daryl smirks, ‘I’ll tell you later. Let’s go.’

Half an hour later they’re standing on a hill together. Below, there’s an abandoned army post. It used to be a training center. The building blends in with the surroundings now, a dull gray and flat roofs, some parts are already reclaimed by nature. Daryl accepts Paul’s binoculars and sees that a part of the fence surrounding the complex has come down. The front doors are wide open. He can’t see any tire tracks. There’s no sign that anyone has been here in months, or even years.

‘There’s another building,’ Paul says as he points to the west.

‘Wasn’t on the map,’ Daryl murmurs as he inspects the second building. The doors are closed. Windows boarded up.

‘It was just a big blob, could have been one building or seven. I was surprised it was marked on that map at all. It’s not your typical tourist trap.’ Paul stomps his boots on the ground to keep his toes warm. ‘It’s a good sign though, the other building? They-‘

‘Ammunition ‘nd shit needed to be stored away from the main building, yeah,’ Daryl murmurs. ‘I know. Merle taught me.’

Despite half of his face being covered, Daryl can tell that Paul is smiling. ‘The second building. You and me?’ the scout asks.

‘Ain’t no other way, man.’

 

 

The second building is locked with a heavy-looking padlock. Daryl frowns at it, weirded out by the fact that any army facility would be locked with such a thing. It doesn’t make sense. He glances back at the first building and can catch a last glimpse of Francis, who follows the two women from Oceanside inside.

Paul tucks his gloves off with his teeth and hands them to the teenager before sinking to his knees in front of the padlock. It doesn’t take him long to unlock it. The chain rattles when he removes it. The scout winces at the noise.

Daryl takes a deep breath and flexes his cold fingers. He took off his gloves earlier so he can wield his crossbow. Though he has other weapons at his disposal, he feels stronger with his crossbow in hand. ‘On three.’

Paul takes out his gun and nods. He waits for the countdown and steps inside the building as soon as Daryl opens the door for him on three. Sharp eyes scan the shadows. He moves silently, stepping aside to make room for the teenager.

Daryl slips in beside him. There are muffled groans and thumps in the distance. It takes his eyes a second to get used to the shadows. It’s a relatively big room. Empty. At the back, there’s another set of double doors, again padlocked. Right in front of them is a counter. There are chairs on the left in a neat row. There’s a table and a busted coffee machine and broken-open soda machine. It used to be a waiting area.

‘It was a kennel,’ Paul says and he sounds surprised.

‘Hmm?’

‘For dogs,’ the scout explains. ‘Look,’ he gestures at the faded posters on the walls. Various dogs mid-action, photographed while jumping out of an airplane, or running along their soldier on a training track. Some searching for something in piles of rubble, another patrolling an airport. Behind the counter, there’s a row with leashes.

‘What about all this shit then?’ Daryl asks as he turns to the other side of the room. It’s filled with large tables and desks. Piles of papers, whiteboards with faded black formulas on them. There are glass vials and tubes on every surface. White coats hang over the backs of chairs. Posters have been ripped off of one wall.

‘I don’t know,’ Paul says as he looks at the wall. Instead of the posters, it’s covered by scribbles. ‘It looks like a prayer of some sort.’

‘Yeah, forgive me my sins, just as You forgave Peter’s denial and those who crucified You,’ Daryl murmurs, pointing out the lines on the wall for Paul. ‘It’s a prayer for forgiveness.’

‘You said those so often that you know it?’

‘Dixon’s don’t beg for nothing. And we don’t kneel,’ Daryl says before walking past the tables, fingers trailing over the glass vials. There’s dust everywhere.

‘Daryl.’ Paul sounds concerned. ‘Look. Here, in the corner. It’s a list of names and numbers behind them.’

‘Matthew, Mark, John ‘nd Luke?’

‘No. Tim. Indira. Lilly. Remy. I can’t read that one, erm… Wendy. Peter.’

‘Whatever, man. There hasn’t been anyone here in months. Years, maybe. Who the fuck cares who they were. Let’s just clear the rest of the building and get back to the others.’

Paul shoots him a look but nods all the same. The second lock is just as easy to pick. As soon as the door opens, the sounds of walkers becomes louder. A familiar scent of rotting human flesh washes over them. Paul heads in first again, down a shadowy corridor with cages on both sides. The growling and snarling becomes louder when the scout passes the first two cages. He freezes. ‘Daryl, go back.’

‘What is it?’ the teenager hisses.

‘Just go back, no don’t…’

Daryl looks inside one of the cages. A small girl is curled up in the corner. Her spine a bony ridge, ribs almost poking through her translucent skin. She’s wearing rags, hair stringy and falling out in places. The walls are dirty, the floor stained by all kinds of bodily fluids. When she looks up, he can see that her eyes have rotted away. She’s chewing on her own left hand which is nothing but rotting mush held together by bones. She growls when he puts his hand on the cage, pulls and pushes at the door. It doesn’t give. Something else rattles when she moves weakly towards him, desperate for food. She looks up. There’s a dog collar around her neck. She’s chained to the back wall.

‘Wendy,’ Paul says softly.

Daryl looks at the small white board next to the door. Her name is on there. ‘Holy shit.’ His gaze shifts to the other cages. ‘No way. What the fuck happened here?’ He looks back at the small whiteboard. ‘Trial seven, what the fuck does that mean?’

‘Maybe… maybe they were still trying to find a cure.’

‘By locking kids in cages and leaving them here to –‘ Daryl cuts himself off when he sees Paul wince. ‘Sorry. I – I just… that’s fucked up.’

‘Yes. It is.’

The teenager looks around. ‘Ain’t nothing here. Let’s go back.’

‘We can’t leave them like this.’

‘Sure we can.’

‘ _Daryl_.’

The Dixon sighs, ‘they ain’t people no more, man. They’re inside cages, nobody is gettin’ bit by them just sittin’ here.’ He hangs his head for a long moment. ‘Fine.’ He grabs his own set of lock picks from his back pocket and starts on the first cage on the left. He’s not as good as Paul, it always takes him at least a minute longer to pick any lock and sometimes he can’t get them at all, but he’s getting better at it every time he tries.

The cage holds a boy barely older than Judith. A little taller, just tall enough for his fingers to brush over Daryl’s while he works on the lock. The fingernails are too blunt to do any damage. His name was Tim.

Daryl steps into the cage when the lock clicks open and he ends the walker with his knife. When he looks back, he sees that Paul is still kneeling in front of the first lock. Hands still. Eyes on the little girl who is trying to crawl towards him now. The leash digs into her skin. Tears it open further. They can see the bones and muscles of her neck.

There are tears in Paul’s eyes.

‘Hey,’ Daryl says as he puts a hand on his friend’s shoulder. ‘Go wait outside. I got it. Watch the door.’

‘No,’ Paul shakes his head as if he’s trying to clear it. ‘No, I was just-‘

‘Paul. Go wait outside.’

The scout slowly gets up. His limbs seem heavy now. His feet drag and he won’t meet the Dixon’s eye. ‘I’m so sorry.’

Daryl gives his shoulder a light shove towards the door. He waits until the door opens, closes, and then gets back to work.

 

 

Half an hour later, he steps outside of the room with a knife that’s dripping blood. Paul is sitting on the register, legs folded beneath him and hand folded over his mouth. Dark eyes have trouble meeting Daryl’s sky-blue ones.

Daryl doesn’t say anything. He cleans his knife with one of the white coats and clips it back into his sheath. The crossbow securely on one shoulder. He takes Paul’s gloves out of his pocket, puts them next to the scout’s thighs. With careful movements, he reaches out and takes the cold hands in his own. Cups them. Blows them warm.

‘I’m sorry you had to do that,’ Paul whispers.

‘Glad you didn’t,’ Daryl murmurs.

 

 

Daryl gets behind the wheel. He roots through the glove compartment to find their CD’s, flipping through them to find a specific one. He puts it in and leans forward to let his arms rest on the steering wheel. His chin on his wrist, eyes on the gigantic painting of a roaring Shiva across from him.

Vivid orange, yellow, brown, flashes of white teeth and sharp nails, the black stripes and spots. A tail lashing, eyes so alive that she could leap from the side of the building any second now.

It’s gorgeous.

It took him a long time. There’s still paint under his fingernails, barely dry. Splashes on his boots, streaks of orange on his jeans from when he’d wiped his hands on his thighs.

His gaze shifts to Ezekiel. The king is still standing in front of the painting. Tall and proud as ever, but with unshed tears in his eyes. There was no speech when he came to find the youngest Dixon and saw his work. No grand declaration about art or memories or love and loss. No words at all. Just a soft noise of utter hurt, regret, longing and a shaking hand folded over his heart at the sight of his beloved protector, immortalized.

When the king returns to his chamber, he will find an envelope on his desk. His name scribbled on it. Childish handwriting but with the swirl beneath it of an artist. He will frame the picture that's inside the envelope. Will keep it in his personal chambers. Will always remember her as the one who didn’t see him as King but the lonely zoo-keeper he was. He will be grateful that Daryl drew her smiling. That that’s how he can remember Carol.

The door on the passenger side opens and Paul falls into the seat. There are bags under his eyes. He’s too pale. ‘Are you sure about this?’ he asks.

Daryl nods. ‘It’s fine.’

‘You don’t have to, we can drop you off and-‘

‘Paul. I said it’s fine.’

The scout doesn’t look too sure. He hasn’t yet recovered from the sights at the kennel. The trip had been fruitful in the sense that there are crates loaded into the back of their truck, filled to the brim with riches of the new world. Ammunition. Guns. Canned food. Good boots and holsters. Body armor that actually fits. Knives. Daryl looks at his friend and thinks that the price might have been too high. He has his own room at the Kingdom. After painting all day to set his own mind free, he’d lain on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Listening to Paul’s hesitant footsteps approaching the door. Waiting there. Hand probably raised to knock, before being lowered again. Fading footsteps.

He hates how Paul thinks he can’t ask for what he so freely gives.

Another car door opens and Francis slides onto the backseat. He groans. ‘You’re kidding me. _He’s_ driving?’

‘Want to walk?’ Daryl asks as he turns the key and starts the car. ‘Shut the fuck up, or get out.’

‘If you get us killed…’

‘Nobody will mourn your stupid ass, shut the fuck up.’ Daryl signals Jerry to open up the gates. He slows the truck enough to reach out of the busted window and give the man a high-five before opening the gas. The beaming smile on Jerry’s face makes him laugh.

Paul looks over and gives him a tired smile.

Daryl turns the volume of the music up. ‘Get some sleep, Paul.’

‘You hate Jazz,’ the scout murmurs as he lets his head rest against the window.

‘Yeah. So go the fuck to sleep so I can change the CD.’

Paul smiles.

Daryl doesn’t change the CD even though the scout is asleep within minutes. It pains him that, hours later, he has to reach over to shake Paul’s shoulder. ‘Hey. We’re almost there. Wake up. Paul,’ he shakes his shoulder harder when he sees the bridge, the familiar road, the gates, ‘ _Paul_!’

The green eyes fly open. ‘What? Yeah – yeah. I’m awake.’

‘Sorry,’ Daryl says as his fingers tighten on the wheel. ‘Kinda nervous. Don’t… Just… Stay with me.’

‘I will.’

‘God,’ Francis moans from the backseat. ‘Gonna make out next?’

‘I wish,’ both Paul and Daryl reply easily.

They smirk at each other.

‘Gross.’

Daryl’s foot lets go of the gas pedal as he turns around in his seat. So fast that Francis’ eyes go wide but he doesn’t have time to block the punch. He howls with pain, clutching his mouth as blood drips onto his fingers. Daryl falls back into his seat and parks the car in the Sanctuary’s courtyard. ‘Home, sweet fucking home, get the hell out of my car, you asshole.’

‘You broke my teeth!’

‘Gonna break your nose next if you don’t get the fuck out,’ Daryl huffs as he opens the door and jumps out of the truck. The gates close behind him and his heartbeat speeds up as he looks at the factory. Dark and looming as ever. He hasn’t been back since the final battle.

The door opens and Dwight comes out. He quickens his pace when he spots the youngest Dixon standing next to the truck. Boots stomp on metal as he runs down the staircase.

Daryl winces and holds the strap of his bow for comfort.

Others come out, too. Men and women first, but he can see children peek out from behind their legs. As more doors open, Daryl can hear more voices echoing from the crypts. There’s laughter coming from inside the factory. Cheerful voices, the hint of music even.Out in the distance, he can see fields where walkers and prisoners used to roam. It’s been transformed into greenhouses and some sort of a farm. His view is blocked when Paul steps in front of him to intercept Dwight.

‘We found-‘

‘This little faggot broke my teeth, Dwight!’ Francis stumbles out of the truck, blood spilling over his lips, dripping down his chin. His lip has split open due to the punch.

Dwight glances at Daryl, who takes his place beside Paul. ‘He let you off easy then. Get inside, Francis.’

‘What the hell, I’m-‘

‘Get inside, Francis,’ Dwight bites out. ‘Go see the doctor.’

The man glares but walks away. At the door, he turns around to flip Daryl off.

Daryl shrugs his crossbow into his hands, catching it easily and swinging it up.

Francis vanishes. The door clanks shut.

Paul smirks and tries to hide it by looking down at his boots. ‘It’s not loaded.’

‘’course not. He probably pissed his pants behind that door though, did you see how fast he ran? Good lord. Pussy. Let’s get started,’ he glances up at Dwight. ‘You get a third.’

Dwight nods. ‘Fine. Tanya is inside. You should go see her.’

Daryl ignores him. He throws his crossbow onto the driver’s seat and then climbs onto the back of the truck to start handing boxes to Dwight. ‘Let’s hurry this up, I wanna get home before dark.’

‘Tanya wants to see you, she’s-‘

‘ _I don’t wanna be here_ ,’ Daryl hisses to the man, hands slamming down on the metal side of the truck as he glares at him. ‘Anyone wants to see me? They can crawl out of this _hellhole_ and come visit me. Now help me get this job done and shut the fuck up!’

To his credit, Dwight just bows his head and then accepts the first box. They work in silence for fifteen minutes until the last stuff is transferred to the growing pile next to the sanctuary. The gate opens behind them and a couple of hunters return home. Carrying spears and bows, ropes to set new traps. They haven’t caught much by the looks of it.

One of them smiles when he sees the Dixon on top of the truck. ‘Hey, little prince!’

Dwight freezes.

Paul takes slow steps to get closer to the teenager in case he needs to intervene.

Daryl chews on the inside of his mouth until he can taste blood. He narrows his eyes at the man who’d called out to him. A scar in his neck, clothes filthy after a day of hard work out in the woods. His brown hair matted down with sweat but smile beaming and bright.

Daryl works his jaw and then nods. ‘Hey, man.’

‘Good to see you!’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl mutters. He jumps down and steps closer to Paul. ‘That’s all of it. Can we go now?’

 

 

The way back to Hilltop Colony is shorter now that they’ve cleared the main roads. Paul still doesn’t drive with his headlights on, but more and more people are willing to travel to the sanctuary or Alexandria without a group. Walkers are still a problem, but less so every time Merle goes out with his group to get rid of most of them. It’s too cold to roll down the window and smoke, and Paul always pretends to die of a coughing fit whenever Daryl lights a cigarette up nearby, so he doesn’t. Feet on the dashboard. Condense on the windows. Country music filling up the air around them.

Daryl watches the scout out of the corner of his eye. ‘You okay?’

‘I’m fine.’

Daryl hums. ‘Why didn’t you come in? Heard you outside my room at the Kingdom. Always know it’s you, man.’

Paul shifts in his seat. ‘Why didn’t you open the door?’

‘I don’t like it when people stick their noses in. Reckon you wouldn’t like it neither.’

‘And yet here we are,’ Paul says.

Daryl sighs and turns his head to look out of the window.

 

 

‘Hey, we’re back,’ Daryl says as he kisses Maggie’s cheek before darting past her, almost knocking her over in his haste. ‘Kal said that the mail had already been delivered? We fucking missed it at the Kingdom.’ He runs to her desk and starts to rummage through her papers. ‘Where is it? Was there a letter for me in it? _Maggie_!’

Maggie’s eyebrows are raised. ‘Excuse me?’

‘The mail! Where is it?’

She glances at Paul, who is biting back a smile as he leans against the doorpost with his shoulder, and then turns back to her son. ‘Your letters are on the mantel piece.’

Daryl shoves the chair aside and grabs the pile of envelopes from the mantel piece. He walks over to the couch while flipping through them, throwing several aside before he gets to the one with familiar scratchy handwriting. He rips it open.

‘What is going on?’ Maggie asks with a laugh. ‘Who’s writing you letters? You just came from the Kingdom!’

‘We missed the messenger who carried the letters by a day,’ Paul says.

‘But you’ve just seen Jayla and Henry. You’ve probably seen Cyndi, so their letter wouldn’t be this pressing. I could recognize Carl’s handwriting. Tara send you something, too. But whose letter is _that_?’

‘Nobody’s,’ Daryl murmurs, pressing one finger into his left ear to try to shut her out and focus on the letter.

‘Jesus?’ Maggie asks.

Paul shakes his head. ‘I’m not telling you.’

‘Where’s my sweet baby boy who trusted me gone?’

‘Probably asleep upstairs in his crib.’

Maggie shoves Paul’s shoulder.

The man laughs and touches her shoulder, ‘come on, I’ll fill you in on the trip.’

 

 

It’s an hour later when Daryl runs up the stairs of Barrington House to get to the room he shares with Maggie. He has scribbled a reply to the letter he keeps in his back pocket, and will rewrite it in the morning with his ball point pen. He needs to look up a couple of words, unsure of how to spell them even though he knows their meaning, and he’s too tired to leave through a dictionary right now.

Maggie is sitting at her desk. A candle burns nearby. She looks up when he enters, features softening at the sight of him. ‘Hey.’

‘Hey,’ he kneels down to untie the laces of his boots and puts them next to the door. He puts his backpack in the corner.

‘Jesus said the trip was a success.’

‘Found a lot of shit,’ Daryl says as he pads towards the crib and leans down to kiss Hershel’s chubby cheek. The baby doesn’t wake up. ‘Kiss okay?’

‘He’s doing great. I think he missed you though. Not even Merle could get him to stop crying yesterday. Cried himself to sleep after an hour.’

Daryl takes Hershel’s tiny hand between his fingers and strokes his thumb over the back of it. ‘Sorry, buddy.’

Maggie gives him a fond smile and turns back to her paperwork. Slim fingers tuck a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

The teenager makes sure Hershel’s stuffed bunny is within reach and then moves to the desk. He wobbles on the balls of his feet. Chews on his fingernail. Scratches at his cheek. ‘Maggie?’

‘Yes, Dare?’

‘Erm…’

‘Take your time,’ Maggie murmurs softly.

‘Yeah.’ He plays with the plastic lighter in his pocket, picks at the hole in his jeans, shrugs out of his leather jacket and then throws his hoodie into a corner. He crawls into their bed, wrapping a blanket around himself. ‘With the letter?’ he says without any introduction because he doesn’t know where or how to start that conversation. ‘Ain’t like… ain’t no _secret_ , it’s just…Can I tell you about it later?’

‘Of course. Not too much later though,’ she shoots him a grin to let him know she’s joking, ‘I want to meet anyone who can make you beam like that. Is she nice?’

Daryl shrugs, fingers kneading the blanket until he looks up, barely meeting her eye. ‘ _He_ is. Yeah.’

‘Sorry. And he better be,’ Maggie laughs. ‘Imagine him meeting the family. Poor soul.’

‘We tried explaining it, but it’s so weird. He kept fucking it up! Like how Beth is my sister, but you’re _not_ my sister? And Rick’s weird to explain sometimes. Like –everyone else is a weird uncle or aunt, but he’s more than that, right? But not… like Glenn were.’

Maggie nods and then lifts a teasing eyebrow. ‘Did you explain Jesus yet?’

Daryl blushes, ‘good old Southern boy,’ he drawls. ‘Worship daily.’ He laughs. ‘Nah, we’re friends. He’s with Alex now, did you know?’

‘I did,’ Maggie confirms.

‘Alex’s a good guy,’ the teenager says as he glances up.

‘He is.’

Daryl nods. He’s quiet for a couple of seconds and then shifts again. ‘There’s something else. I was thinking…’ He scratches at the back of his neck. ‘I know I like… I moved in here because of… stuff, ya know? But… I haven’t had any nightmares that bad in a while and I was wondering if… maybe it’s a good idea if I try, like, sleeping on my own again? It went well at the Kingdom! No problem, right? And I bunked with Carl at Alexandria but Rick were being a pain about staying up because we kinda riled Judith up before bed and he was sick of us. So it wasn’t because of the nightmares but just so we could talk a while longer.’

Maggie blinks at the sudden flood of words. She smiles. ‘I think that’s a great idea, Dare. Which room would you like?’

‘The one next to the kitchen is still free, right?’

‘That’s a storage cupboard!’

‘It’s a _room_! A bed would fit!’

Maggie rolls her eyes. ‘You’re not getting that _cupboard_. And no, you can’t share with Khamsin either. Think of another room that is free.’

Daryl shrugs. ‘I gotta ask Kal if there’s room in the expansion…’

‘You’re not sleeping in the expansion. You’ll sleep in Barrington House. Think again.’

He knows that there’s only one room free in the house. It’s the one down the hall, across from Aaron’s. It has a balcony and huge French windows. Lots of natural light and a big desk which would be perfect for his drawings.

Maggie wriggles her eyebrows.

‘You kept it for me?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

Daryl grins. ‘I want the room down the hall.’

‘Okay.’

‘You sure that’s okay? It’s big. Maybe one of the families wants-‘

‘Dare. Take the room.’

‘Okay.’ He sniggers and draws his feet up. The smile fades. He bites on his lower lip. ‘But I can stay for one more night though… right? All my shit's still here and I just got back, and...’

Maggie laughs, gets up and goes to him. Arms around his neck, drawing him in a hug. She kisses the baseball cap. ‘One more night. Whenever you want it.’

 

 


	31. Open doors

 

* * *

 

 

 

‘That’s your dad,’ Daryl tells Hershel. He is standing in front of Alexandria’s wall and watches how the paint dries in the cold winter air. It has taken him three days but he finished the first couple of scenes. Farther to the right, his eleven-year old self is watching the emergency broadcast. It had been hard to paint Will. Every detail ingrained in his brain forever of course, but now tainted by everything they could have been if Will had been different. Less bitter, and less quick to grab a bottle.

Merle had watched him work. Hadn’t said anything as he watched his father materialize from different memories, had just spat on the ground, bitter in his own way but still nodding when Daryl glanced over his shoulder for approval. Merle had left soon after, only softly pointing out that Daryl’s hair had been lighter in those days before heading back to the house he used to own in this town. Different people sleep in his bedroom now, occupy the living room and sit on the porch, but they still welcome him home when he enters.

On the wall, Glenn leans against a dirty pick-up truck and passes Daryl an Oreo. The start of the rest of his life.

‘See?’ Daryl bobs Hershel and points up. ‘He had brown eyes, too. And black hair, just like you!’

The rest of the scene is just a vague outline. Will, arms folded and with the start of a mean smirk on his face. Brushstrokes of Shane with the shotgun on his shoulder, distrusting the two strangers from the second he’d laid eyes on them.

Footsteps cause Daryl to turn around. Rick comes walking towards them, hands deep in the pockets of his jeans and the brown coat zipped up, woolen collar up to break the wind. His nose is red from the cold. He doesn’t seem to notice or mind. He sits down on the picnic table that has been placed near the wall. His thigh almost touches the buckets of paint.

‘Hey,’ Daryl says to break the silence as Rick looks at the artwork. ‘If this ain’t what you meant, we can just paint over it. I can do it tomorrow, my hands got too cold to do it now, but-‘

‘It’s exactly what I meant,’ Rick says. His breath ghosts in front of him. ‘It looks great. I’m glad you started.’

The teenager wanders over. ‘Really? I mean… there ain’t no ignoring it.’ He sits down next to the man. ‘I gave Glenn’s picture to Hershel, it’s in Maggie’s room. See it every day. Weird, man.’

‘Good weird?’

Daryl shrugs. ‘I dunno,’ he murmurs. ‘Don’t know if it makes me miss him more, or less. But I guess it ain’t really for us, right?’

‘Maybe one day it will be.’

‘Yeah… maybe.’ He bites on his lip. ‘Can you take Kiss for a bit?’

‘Sure,’ Rick unzips his jacket and then easily transfers the baby to his chest, zipping the jacket up around the both of them. ‘Something wrong?’

‘No.’

‘Okay. Is there something you want to talk about?’

Daryl swings his feet. He hums and then glances at the man next to him. ‘Is there something you’re not telling me, Rick? Something about the safe houses maybe?’

The cop looks caught for just a second. Eyes widen and then narrow before he settles down again. He opens and closes his mouth, unsure of what to say. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Hmmh.’ Daryl chews on his nail. ‘So how long has it been a problem?’

Rick sighs and kisses Hershel’s head. ‘Since the war ended. How did you find out about it?’

‘I was out huntin’ last week. Went kinda far, stayin’ out two days and-‘

‘On your own?’ Rick asks, sounding alarmed.

‘Had a girl with me -not like that! One of the girls from the expansion, she’s showing signs to become a great hunter. I got her a compound bow but she’s been practicing on trees ‘nd shit. Ain’t the same as catching a rabbit with a clean shot, so I took her with me.’ Daryl takes his cap off and runs a hand through his hair. ‘We got caught out in the rain. She said she knew a place the Saviors used to use – some kind of safe house.’

Rick closes his eyes.

‘Guess nobody checked that one, huh?’ The teenager spits on the ground. He remembers staring at the wall inside the living room of the house, the pale light of his flashlight illuminating the white angel wings somebody had splashed on the wall. Paint dripping down like blood, dry but not very old. The wings.

And the words.

_Still Negan. Save us, little prince._

‘What’s going on, Rick?’

‘Not everyone believes that you _escaped_ the Sanctuary. Someone spread the story that you didn’t want to be with our group.’ Rick strokes Hershel’s cheek. ‘They think I killed your dad.’

‘ _I_ spread that story,’ Daryl nods. ‘Told Negan that you’d chained Will to a metal pipe on a rooftop somewhere, left him to die, that that was why I didn’t like you none. Didn’t owe you none. Said I barely knew Merle, that Maggie hated my red-neck ass.’ He shrugs. ‘I just tried to take some heat off of you and make it easier for myself. Tried to make him think that I thought the Sanctuary was a pretty sweet place to be at.’ He looks at Rick. ‘I didn’t think it worked though.’

‘Not with Negan, no. He passed the story on though, made it sound like he rescued you that night, that we’d brainwashed you and that’s why you needed to be locked up for a little while. Until you came back to your senses.’

‘He turned it around.’

‘Yes.’

‘Asshole,’ Daryl mutters. He looks away. ‘The guy who poisoned Maggie…’

‘He thought he was on a rescue mission.’

‘You should have let me drag him back to that hellhole and kill him on the doorstep to show them all what’s the truth.’

‘Maybe,’ Rick allows.

Daryl sighs and pulls his feet up, looping his arms around his knees and letting his chin rest on them. ‘What do you want me to do?’

‘Nothing. Let Dwight handle it.’

‘’cause that’s going so well. Maggie almost died.’

‘Frankie is moving back to the Sanctuary. We’re hoping she’ll silence the last rumors.’

Daryl nods. ‘Maybe. If not, I’ll head back to the Sanctuary and put an end to it myself.’ He swallows more threats when he sees that Judith comes bounding over. Feet in bright yellow rain boots, wearing a red jacket, blonde curls bouncing in time with her jumps. She’s laughing, giggles when she lands in a big puddle and holds her hands out for him.

‘Dare!’

‘Lil’ Asskicker!’ He hops off the bench and catches her when she jumps into his arms. She’s still light enough to swing around, easily dropping her onto the table. She wobbles due to the momentum but turns around.

Daryl does too.

She shrieks and jumps onto his back, claiming a piggy ride while pressing their cheeks together.

‘Hey, crazy lady,’ Daryl laughs as he hitches her higher. ‘Is Carl back yet?’

‘Yeah!’

‘Michonne send you to get us for dinner?’

‘ _Yeah_!’

‘Hell yeah!’ Daryl makes a couple of crazy jumps which cause the little girl to hold on tighter and scream with laugher. He grins and then lets her climb further up, helping her to settle onto his shoulders, dirty boots thumping against his chest. He grabs hold of her ankles and turns to Rick. ‘Let’s go. I’m fucking starvin’. You got Kiss?’

‘Yeah. Let’s go home.’

They walk back through the town, passing the main gate, crossing the field of grass where Rick had once pronounced him dead. The memory still resurfaces in his dreams but doesn’t leave him screaming anymore. The jagged edged are fading out. It will always be a sore spot, though only when he pokes at it.

Gardens are slowly growing back into the scorched earth. On the other side, greenhouses are filling up with greenery, apple trees are growing strong and chickens run around, growing fatter every day. Pigs from the Kingdom will arrive in a month and Cyndie will send people to help build fishing traps for the river further West.

‘Down, down! Down!’ Judith pulls at his ear when they reach Rick’s house. She beams up at him when she lands on the porch. ‘Thank you!’

‘You’re welcome,’ Daryl laughs. He watches how she tears into the house, calling out for Michonne. The woman’s voice sounds stern even though Daryl can’t make out what she’s saying.

Judith freezes in the hallway and then tiptoes back to the door, kicking off her boots and storming back in. ‘ _I’m not wearing them!_ ’

‘Grimes’s,’ Daryl shakes his head and wipes his boots clean. He never takes them off unless he’s sleeping or inside Barrington House. Neither Rick nor his girlfriend ever tell him off. ‘Trash. All of them. Except Michonne.’

Rick laughs softly and wants to walk past him.

‘Hey,’ Daryl puts a hand on the man’s shoulder. ‘This is the last time you’re not telling me shit that concerns me, okay? I get that you’re looking out for me, but it’s gotta stop. I need to know. These secrets between us? It’ll fuck us over in the end.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘I know.’ Daryl shrugs and heads inside.

‘Dare.’ Rick looks at him warily. ‘The safe house. What happened to it?’

‘I burned it to the ground.’

Rick works his jaw. ‘The… the girl. The Savior who was with you…?’

Daryl narrows his eyes. ‘Taught her how to track and bag a goddamn deer, Rick. She did good. Ain’t a Savior no more.’

‘I just…’

‘You thought I’d burned her too.’ Daryl shakes his head. ‘Yeah… go fuck yourself, Rick.’

 

 

The door of his bedroom is open. Daryl stops in the hallway and lets his hand fall onto the gun strapped to his thigh. He’s sure he’d closed the door when he’d left. Had double checked whether it was locked even because Judith likes to sneak into his room to search for his sketchbook. She likes the pictures of Khamsin, likes the drawings of Washington D.C., amazed at the many buildings, the concept of a city almost foreign to her.

He doesn’t mind when she goes through the sketchbooks of course. He just doesn’t need her digging through the pile of letters that’s usually stored in the drawer of his nightstand, right under the sketchbook.

His footsteps soften as his hand touches the door. He slowly pushes it open.

‘Just me.’

He smiles and leans against the doorpost. The moonlight illuminates Paul, who is sprawled out on his bed. Hair a halo around his head, boots kicked into a corner, socks gone. He’s still wearing his dark jeans, is wearing a dark green shirt, but his knives litter the teenager’s desk.

Daryl quirks an eyebrow but he’s sure Paul can’t tell in the dark. ‘Is it my lucky day?’

‘I thought Hilltop was _loud_.’ Paul drags a hand over his eyes. He sounds like he’s in pain. ‘This is so much worse. I hate your family.’

‘You’re just mad because Kiss threw up on you.’

‘That too.’

Daryl laughs and walks towards the window. He opens it and sits down in the windowsill. From here, he can see most of the new town square. There are fires roaring in a big circle. Meat is being roasted for the next day, people are huddled around the warmth, blankets draped over their shoulders as they finish the last chores. He knows Maggie is down there somewhere with Rick, heads close together as they discuss their futures.

Michonne took Hershel and Judith home earlier. He has no doubt that both kids are curled up in bed with her. That Rick will have to move his daughter if he wants to sleep in his own bed tonight. They will probably find him in Carl’s bed if it stays empty, or on the couch downstairs if his son decides to come home instead of spend the night at his girlfriend’s place.

‘Why did you come back?’ Paul asks suddenly, propping himself up on his elbows. ‘I thought you were staying with Merle for the night.’

‘Some guy smuggled some bottles into this place,’ Daryl mutters. He tilts his head back and lets the night air brush over his heated skin. Fifteen minutes ago he’d been helping Tara beat his brother at poker in their crowded living room. The clinking of glass, voices getting louder, words more vicious and fuses shorter with every shot they took. ‘Nobody can hold their liquor no more.’

‘Did something-‘

‘Of course not, Merle was there. I just don’t like it,’ Daryl dismisses with a wave of his hand. ‘It reminds me of my dad and his friends, when I was younger, you know? They were loud. Nothing to do but bust each other’s balls, I remember listening to it from my bedroom. I don’t remember I was scared then though.’

Paul sits up on the bed and runs a hand through his hair.

‘I ain’t scared now,’ Daryl tells him. ‘I could take on all those guys blindfolded but... makes me uneasy, nervous, when they’re like this. Shane got drunk once, back at the CDC. At the beginning. We thought we’d found a safe place and they all got drunk as fuck. I bunked with Glenn, he said I’d looked freaked out when I saw that Shane was drunk.’

‘But not Glenn?’

Daryl laughs. ‘You only knew Glenn from after everything. Man, he was fucking tough as nails, but at the start? He just looked… young, I guess. Shane was broad, loud, waving a gun all the damn time. Angry quick, ya know? Glenn was… just nice. He got drunk? Pssh. He was a good drunk, just passed out after complaining some.’ He shakes his head and shifts so he can look at his friend. ‘What about you? Why’re you in my bed?’

‘Because every woman of Alexandria decided to camp out in my living room to take turns making Hershel cry. That’s what it sounded like at least. And Merle’s house seemed like a _riot_ ,’ he gives the teenager a pointed look, ‘so I came to Rick’s. I thought you’d stay at your brother’s. I didn’t think you’d mind me crashing here. Sorry, I should have asked.’

Daryl shrugs. ‘Don’t mind none.’

‘I’ll take the couch,’ Paul says.

‘Nah. Take the bed, man. You’re old. I can take the couch or floor.’

The scout laughs. ‘You’re such a gentleman.’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl grins. ‘And good luck in the morning, Judith likes to storm in and jump on me. Her knee somehow always lands in my crotch and she does _not_ care. Every morning. So… I hope she figures out you’re not me before she lands, man, or may God be with you. And your balls.’

Paul falls onto his back again. ‘Thank you for being so concerned about my balls.’

‘You’re welcome.’ He lights a cigarette. ‘I’ll fuck off in a second. Rick doesn’t want me smoking anywhere else in the house.’

‘I’m pretty sure Rick doesn’t want you to smoke all together.’

‘Tough.’

‘You pray for my balls, I’ll pray for your lungs.’

Daryl snorts and inhales sharply. Smoke rolls over his pale lips. ‘Sure, man. We’re just going to bullshit some more, or are you going to tell me why you ain’t sleeping?’

Paul puts a hand over his eyes again. ‘I’m fine.’

The teenager takes another drag and doesn’t say anything. It’s quiet in the room for a long time. It grows colder, too. The smoke disappears into the night.

‘You’re right,’ the man says suddenly. Voice soft like he hopes Daryl can’t actually hear him. ‘I can’t sleep. I have nightmares about those kids in the cages. I don’t know why it bothered me so much.’

Daryl shoots his cigarette out of the window. ‘What a fucked up world when you gotta wonder why that bothered you. Did you talk to anyone?’

‘Like Maggie? That’d be a _great_ talk. Hey, I let your son kill a couple of kids because it fucked me up so bad that I couldn’t even do it myself.’

Daryl hums. ‘My second ever walker kill was a kid.’

‘Your second ever… Christ,’ Paul breathes. ‘Who was the first?’

‘Jerry. Some asshole who’d owned a hunting cabin near ours. Shot him with my old bow. We found the kid later in a crashed car. She was still in the booster seat. Dad told me to stop being a pussy and do it.’

Paul winces. He breathes in deeply. ‘I’ve never seen a child walker before. It’s been years and I’ve never… graves, sure. Teenagers, too. But children? Not one.’

‘I’ve seen a couple,’ Daryl says as he closes the window, sitting down on his desk instead. ‘Know the best cure to that feeling?’

‘Three bottles of gin?’

‘Pssh. When Judith jumps you in the morning, tickle her until she wakes up the whole goddamn house with her screeching. Or make Kiss giggle by tickling his foot. He’ll pull this face that just says; why the hell does that make me giggle? _The fuck_? So confused why that’s funny. It’s hilarious.’

Paul smiles.

‘Whatever happened, happened, man, but we’re still here.’ Daryl scratches at the back of his neck. ‘Ain’t really good at this stuff. Cheering people up? Making them feel better? I can go get Maggie, if you want…’

‘I’m feeling better already.’

Daryl smiles shyly. ‘Is it because I’m praying for your balls? Does it like… radiate to the rest- Stop laughing!’

‘You’re the absolute worst.’

‘Am not,’ the teenager laughs and walks to his bed, pushing Paul to the side so he can sit too. ‘Hey, did you ever hear the story about how Carl got stuck up a tree when we were thirteen? Don’t tell Rick though.’

Paul shifts to his side, grabbing Daryl’s pillow and settling down. ‘No, spill.’

Daryl sits against the headboard and tells the story about how he’d been telling Carl ghost stories at night for over a week, leaving the other boy nervous and jittery. That they’d been walking through the woods to take a piss somewhere and heard a twig snap in the distance. Daryl knew it was just Shane, standing guard, but he’d still freaked Carl out by hissing that a Chupacabra was coming to eat them both.

And how he’d given Carl a boost to climb a tree… how he ran away laughing, leaving the youngest Grimes up there until Shane finally came to look for them, finding Carl in tears on the highest branch, too scared to come down.

Carl hadn’t ever ratted on him. Maybe because Daryl had felt a little guilty afterwards and kept sneaking him the best bits of his food as an apology.

When he’s done with the story, Paul is vast asleep. Daryl looks at him in the moonlight and resists the urge to reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind an ear. Instead, he slips out of the bed, pulls the blanket over his friend before tiptoeing to the closet. He grabs a bunch of his old clothes and makes a nest in the corner of the room, settling down for the night.

He makes sure the door is wide open.

Hours later, Judith’s laughter mixed with Paul’s wakes him up.

 

 

The gates open and Daryl feels a wave of nostalgia rush over him as he makes his way back into Alexandria. Everything looks different now, bigger and new, but Rosita still gives him the all-clear whistle to welcome him home. Out in the distance, Michonne gallops past on one of the Kingdom’s horses but Carl easily overtakes her with Khamsin. One of the guards waves at him.

Daryl nods his hello. There’s a stag draped over his shoulders, heavy and still warm. Blood drips down his neck, his arms, soaking his shirt, but he doesn’t really care. He hasn’t had the chance to go out hunting on his own for a long time and he has enjoyed the silence of it all. The woods will always be his own sanctuary, only breaking the stillness to keep Shane updated. Even that makes him feel better. Lighter.

Two teenagers come running over, two years younger than him but grown up inside the Kingdom’s walls and soft. They beam at the youngest Dixon. ‘Good morning, Daryl!’

‘Morning kids,’ Daryl grins because he likes teasing them.

‘We can take your kill!’ the girl says eagerly, stepping forward with her arms held out.

‘No need for us all to get soaked with blood,’ he says as he walks past them and heads over to the kitchen. ‘What’s Carl up too, racing my girl around like that?’

‘Michonne is teaching him how to ride properly,’ the boy says with a shy grin. ‘He’s getting better. Khamsin threw him earlier.’

‘Of course she did,’ Daryl laughs. ‘She’s a good girl.’

‘Where did you find the stag?’ the girl asks, bouncing along beside him.

‘In the woods. It’s where they live.’

The boy laughs and the girl blushes.

‘By the river,’ Daryl tells her. He feels a little bad for making fun of her questions. ‘They like to drink the water there, walkers can’t really get to it so it’s a safe spot. Until one of us strolls by, huh?’ He nudges her gently and is glad when she smiles. ‘Get the door for me?’

She jumps forward to open the backdoor of the kitchen.  He’s glad to be inside, out of the cold. Heat from the stoves and open fires washes over him, banishing the chill from his bones. There’s a big table in the center. He walks over and gently puts the carcass down.

‘Good morning, Dare.’

Daryl looks up to find Rick sitting on one of the tables, legs drawn up while he peels potatoes. One of the older women is helping him and Daryl doesn’t doubt that Rick is just lending a hand while making his morning round to get an update on their stocks. The cold blue eyes flash to the two teenagers trailing after him.

‘Good morning, sir,’ they squeak.

‘Morning, Rick,’ Daryl nods. ‘Hey Sareena, I got you those herbs you asked for.’ He wipes some blood off his hands before grabbing the pouch hanging from his belt.

‘Oh,’ the elderly woman puts a hand over her heart, ‘you didn’t need to go all the way to that valley this morning. It’s cold out there.’

‘It weren’t that far,’ he grins. ‘Yo, kids. Know how to cut this up?’ He takes his hunting knife and holds the hilt out to them.

‘I do,’ the girl steps forward confidently.

The boy shoulders her out of the way, ‘ _I_ know how to do it.’

‘ _You_ can run to my house and grab me a clean shirt ‘nd jacket. Wipe your feet or Rick will shank ya. First floor, first room on the right. I see your grimy prints anywhere but on my closet, I’ll fuck you up. Cool?’

The boy looks at him with wide eyes but nods. ‘err… yeah. Cool.’ He glances at Rick and then runs off.

Daryl laughs as soon as the door is closed and hands the knife to the girl. ‘Go ahead. If you need help, holler. I’m gonna clean up.’ Sareena has already placed a bowl with warm water next to Rick. There’s an old towel as well. He shrugs out of his bloodied jacket and shirt. The water washes away the blood.

‘Do they still hurt?’ Sareena asks. She’s eyeing the pattern of scars on his chest.

‘Not since my last growth spurt,’ Daryl smiles. ‘I gave that paste to one of the kids of the expansion. They said it helped a lot with their pain. So thanks.’

‘It was meant for you.’

‘I told you it doesn’t hurt anymore,’ Daryl says, gritting his teeth together as annoyance starts to crawl up his spine. ‘Thank you.’

‘Merle said it sometimes both-‘

‘ _Enough_ ,’ the Dixon snarls viciously. Behind him, the young girl jumps with fright. Rick is eyeing him, caution shimmering in his cold eyes. Daryl takes a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry. Please stop. Thank you for your help. I appreciate it. Let me or one of the other hunters know if you need any more herbs. I didn’t take too many, Beth says it loses its… like, power… when it dries out.’

Sareena nods. ‘It loses its potency, yes.’

‘Potency,’ Daryl repeats while nodding. ‘Okay.’ He cleans the blood off his skin and rolls his shoulders back, stretching to get rid of the ache from carrying the carcass all the way back. He’d missed those days when he’d just sit guard next to his kill after radioing Shane and then skipping alongside him back to the prison while the man carried his prize for him.

Then he turns back to the girl, ‘how’s it going?’

‘Good, I think. It’s just this part, do I just…?’ she jabs at the meat and bones with his knife.

‘No, don’t just _stab stab_ it,’ he laughs. ‘Here, let me show you.’ They work quietly side by side. He teaches her how to cut good pieces, how to skin it cleanly and how to hold his knife better. ‘You’re doing real good,’ he praises even though not every piece is as clean cut as when he would have done it himself.

‘Thank you!’ the girl beams.

‘You’re welcome!’ he laughs.

The boy returns with flushed cheeks from running. He seems nervous as he offers the clothes. ‘Didn’t touch anything else. Promise.’ He glances at Rick. ‘And I wiped my shoes.’

‘Good job,’ Daryl pulls the shirt on quickly and then his jacket. It’s soft and warm. ‘Thanks, kid.’ He turns to Rick. ‘Wanna finish your rounds together?’

‘Yes,’ Rick smiles as he jumps off the table. ‘I’d like that.’

‘Same,’ Daryl grins. He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans and follows the man out, nodding his thanks to the kids and Sareena. Rick leads them past the infirmary and main gate. They walk between the houses, inspect the wall as they stroll through the tall grass. People wave at them as they pass the greenhouses, weaving through the apple trees.

Rick laughs when Daryl jumps up to grab an apple, munching happily on it before offering the other half to the man. He takes it. They talk about the expansion, Rick first carefully choosing his words like he’s scared the teenager will bite his head off for attempting a conversation. He doesn’t, so they talk about that and what stuff Alexandria still needs, how they’re trying to make bullets and succeeding more often than not.

They end up on the wall together, overlooking the community.

Kids are playing in the grass after school. Carl lets Khamsin run wild while Michonne sits on the fence and shouts semi-helpful tips between her laughter. Out in the distance, Jesus and Merle are standing guard together in comfortable silence.

Daryl breathes in deeply and glances at Rick. ‘How’s he doing?’

Rick looks at him for a moment but knows exactly who he’s talking about. ‘Good. He asks after you all the time.’

‘What do you tell him?’

‘That you’re doing great,’ Rick says. ‘He almost broke out when we told him about what happened to Maggie. Thinks it’s on him.’

‘It is. The hypocrite.’

‘He’s sorry,’ Rick says softly.

‘He won’t ever be forgiven.’

‘Maybe you should go talk to him sometime.’

Daryl narrows his eyes as he looks at Rick. ‘Why?’

The cop stuffs his hands in the pocket of his jacket. He shrugs. ‘He was important to you.’

‘Because he kept me alive in that hellhole. Ain’t nothing to me no more.’

Rick doesn’t say anything.

‘I’m gonna kick Carl off Khamsin’s back. She don’t deserve all that,’ Daryl mutters. ‘Catch you later, man.’

‘Dare.’ Rick works his jaw, opens his mouth but then looks away. ‘Nothing. I mean… I love you.’

Daryl eyes him for a moment. ‘Yeah… same, asshole.’

 

 

It’s dark when his bedroom door opens and closes softly. His hand curls around the wild flowers before he’s even properly awake, ready to draw his knife that’s always within reach. When footsteps approach his bed, even his sleep-muddled brain realizes that it’s Maggie.

He sits up. ‘Mags? What’s wrong?’

She sits down on the edge of the bed. He can barely make her out. The curtains have been drawn closed against the cold. Someone has put a pile of extra blankets by the foot of his bed sometime during the day, as well as some clean clothes. He suspects Tara.

‘I didn’t come here to thank Rick and Michonne for taking care of you and Enid while I was sick,’ Maggie says in the dark. She’s crying. ‘That’s not why we’re here.’

‘Thought it was kinda weird.’

‘You still came,’ Maggie says.

‘Because you asked me to,’ Daryl says.

Her hand finds his knee and then his shoulder, pulling him close. She hugs him tightly, crying onto his shoulder. Soft sobs turn into heart-wrecking ones.

‘I’m here,’ Daryl says in the dark. ‘What happened?’

Maggie’s fingers dig into his back. ‘He says he’s _sorry_. How is that… How does that make anything better? Why does Rick think he can change? Why- this doesn’t change _anything_.’

‘No, it doesn’t.’

‘He _killed_ them!’

Daryl drags her closer. He drapes his blanket over her back and lets her cry on his shoulder. ‘I know,’ he whispers. ‘I’m so sorry. I’m here. I’m right here. I got you, Mags.’

 

 


	32. cracked ice

 

* * *

 

 

 

A white flag waves in the cool morning breeze. Daryl watches it like it will change color on him. It’s a new system and he doubts it works. White signals that the route to the metro station has been cleared but there’s no telling how long ago someone raised the flag. There are still herds of walkers in the city and Mason doesn’t want to do anything about it. It’s just another layer of protection for those who have high wall and tunnels to hide in.

Light snow is coating his cap and shoulders. He rubs his gloved hands together and tries to blow the leather warm. The city seems quieter now that most of the wildlife is either hibernating or fleeing the cold. It’s getting harder to hunt. Everyone is thankful that the last harvest has come in and that both the Kingdom and Oceanside will be able to sustain all communities should things get tough.

Rations are back in place but nobody has been indulging anyway. He’ll miss the taste of fresh apples and can’t wait for spring to come, but winter has its charms as well. Roaring fires inside Barrington house, everyone huddled together and sharing stories to entertain one another. Beth’s singing is even more enchanting than before in the semi-darkness. Hershel rolling around on thick hides while trying to crawl into Paul’s lap before being scooped up by Aaron.

He shivers and checks the battery on his walkie-talkie. The light is still green. No static coming through on either side. The Kingdom or Washington. Coms are clear.

‘Dixon to Washington,’ he says when he presses the button on the side. ‘Inbound, fifteen minutes.’

A second of silence and then a man’s voice. ‘Gates will be manned. Horse?’

‘Bike. It’s just me. Fifteen minutes.’

‘Copy. Over and out.’

The radio is clipped to the band of his backpack which is new. Made of sturdy leather and metal rings, the top closed by a drawstring and flap to protect the content against the element. Most of his clothes are new, or as new as anything is these days. Warm, watertight black army boots and dark jeans that used to cost a fortune. White shirt and grey hoodie that’s zipped all the way up. A new leather jacket. His wings on his back. He still wears Paul’s gloves. An elderly woman at Hilltop knitted him a new scarf, bulky and dark green. He loves it. Maggie keeps trying to make him wear an actual hat that’ll keep his ears warm, but he refuses to give up his baseball cap.

Despite the cold, he unzips his hoodie and tugs the scarf lower. He shifts around on the seat, feet nervously moving over the asphalt. ‘Yo,’ he says softly. He shifts again. ‘Hey, man. Dude. Hey dude. Yo dude. Fuck.’ Blue eyes glance up at the gray sky. ‘Finger guns? Worked for you, right?’

Shuffling feet alert him. Three walkers are wandering down the street behind him. He lets go of one of the handlebars and turns in his seat, lifting his right hand to finger gun them down. Feet leave the asphalt as he opens the gas to speed down the long road. ‘Fuck it,’ he laughs as he tugs the scarf back over his nose and mouth.

It’s easy enough to dodge the couple of walkers he meets on the rest of the roads. The roar of his bike echoes between the buildings, the sound fading too fast for any of them to pinpoint his location and mob him. He zigzags through the neighborhoods, sometimes spotting markings that belong to D.C’s guards.

The bike skids around the corner, his knee almost touching the asphalt as he leans into the movement. When he straightens up again, the wall of Washington D.C. appears in front of him. As always, the whole place seems abandoned. Snow is being blown up against the wall, creating heaps at the base. There are footsteps in the white substance but hardly anyone else would be able to tell whether walkers made them, or humans.

When he’s halfway down the road, the gate starts to open for him. He grins behind his scarf, letting his bike roar in thanks before tearing over the threshold. One of the garages of the houses down the road has been opened up for him. He parks, shuts off the engine, takes his stuff, and jumps up to grab the door. It rattles when he pulls it down.

‘Daryl!’

He turns and pulls his scarf further down to reveal his grin. Taiwo comes running towards him. Black boots and light brown jeans, a dark jacket and yellow beanie. A grin that rivals the youngest Dixon’s. Behind him, his friends and sister come running up the stairs too.

‘Taiwo! Hi!’

His friend comes to a halt a couple of steps away from him. He puts his hands in the pockets of his light jeans and wobbles on the balls of his feet. ‘Good to see you.’

Daryl’s smile fades. ‘Yeah, you too…’

Taiwo nods and kicks his feet together. ‘it’s really hard not to… I know you don’t like it when-‘

The Dixon darts forward, crossing the small distance between them and hugging the other boy tightly. He feels the shock in Taiwo’s body, how he tenses before relaxing and then bringing his arms up to put them around his waist, pulling his closer. ‘Shit, man,’ Daryl laughs, burying his face in his boyfriend’s neck, ‘thought you were already kickin’ me to the curb.’

‘Sorry,’ Taiwo laughs. ‘Hey!’

‘Hey, dude,’ Daryl leans back just a fraction and then quickly pecks him on the cheek. ‘Erm.. Yo.’

‘Yeah, hey, hi, hello,’ Taiwo grins. ‘ _Yo_. You got any more variations?’

‘Stop,’ Daryl moans as he pushes his boyfriend away. ‘Sorry! I’m just nervous.’

Taiwo’s grin softens into a warm smile. His hand moves down to squeeze Daryl’s side before he steps to the left to make room for his friends and sister. Amaka reaches them first, laughing brightly as she hugs Daryl.

‘Welcome back! Did you bring Beth again?’

‘Sorry, just me,’ Daryl smiles as he hugs her back. He shakes Felix and Hakeem’s hands. ‘Good to see y’all.’ He throws his extra bag over his shoulder, ‘wanna head down? I’m fucking frozen after that ride.’

Hakeem’s eyes widen and he points East and then West.

‘Nah, came from Alexandria. Maggie wanted to spend some time down there, she took Khamsin back and I took the bike here. Nearly froze my ass off, I should have stopped at the Kingdom, but…’ He shrugs.

Hakeem beams at him and nods his understanding.

‘Let’s get you warmed up then,’ Taiwo reaches out and takes his second bag from him. ‘I’ll carry that.’

‘Can I carry the crossbow?’ Felix asks eagerly.

‘When I’m fucking dead,’ Daryl laughs. He starts towards the metro station, falling into step beside Taiwo.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Felix hisses to Hakeem behind him, ‘I’ll ask him, shut up – you know what I mean. Hey, Daryl? A couple of the guys went to the Kingdom for the first time. Is it true that the king had a tiger, or are they just messing with us?’

‘What, y’all didn’t get to come or something? Nah, they ain’t messin’ with ya. He had a tiger. Her name was Shiva. She died protecting him during the last battle.’

‘You – you knew the tiger?’

Daryl snorts. ‘Yeah. I knew the tiger.’

‘So cool,’ Felix whispers and then pipes up again. ‘Does he have a hidden sword, too? They said there was a sword hidden-‘

‘Will you leave him alone?’ Taiwo snaps. ‘He’s not here to be interrogated.’

‘Oh we know why he’s here,’ Felix laughs and Hakeem claps his hands together with glee.

‘Gross,’ Amaka groans. She slips past the boys and jumps onto the metal divider between the two staircases leading down into the dark pit. It functions as a slide and she’s at the gate within seconds. Felix and Hakeem jump after her, whooping as they slide down.

Taiwo shakes his head. ‘Assholes. I tried shaking them but Mason just _had_ to mention you were coming at breakfast. Sorry about that.’

‘Ain’t no problem,’ Daryl grins even though a faint blush brightens his cheeks. ‘They’re not as bad as Carl ‘nd Beth. So…’ he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans and glances at the other boy. ‘You got my letters?’

‘ _Yeah_! Erm, yeah,’ Taiwo laughs at his own enthusiasm. ‘You got mine, too, right?’

‘’course.’

‘Good.’

They walk slowly to make their time alone last.

‘So, everything okay back home? You said Maggie is doing better now?’

‘Yeah, she’s fine now.’ He glances over again but quickly looks back down at his own boots. It feels strange to walk next to his friend now. He’s been thinking about their reunion for weeks. Sometimes imagining it as one of those scenes from Beth’s novels, cheesy and filled with fiery kisses, but he’d feared it would be just like this. A bit awkward.

They’ve been sending letters back and forth every chance they had. Daryl knows when the first snow fell here, how Amaka won’t stop complaining about the cold and Taiwo likes how silent the world gets with this blanket covering it at night. It had been easy to tell Taiwo such things in letters, too. About how he’d started the paintings at Alexandria, that Khamsin puts fear in the heart of the stable hands everywhere but tolerates Carl these days, and that Hershel is starting to crawl and get into trouble all by himself. Now, his mouth feels dry and he doesn’t know what to say.

‘You look tired,’ Taiwo says.

‘ _Thanks_.’

‘Oh, no – I mean you look good! Just… tired.’

Daryl laughs and reaches out to shove his shoulder lightly, causing his boyfriend to stumble down a couple of steps. ‘You think I was just out there paintin’ some, pickin’ some flowers? Rosita’s at Alexandria. Can’t go two seconds without either running a lap for pronouncing a word wrong, or doing twenty push-ups for forgetting to speak to her in Spanish in the first place.’

‘Is that why you look like that?’ Taiwo leers at him, eyes traveling over his broad shoulders and toned stomach.

‘Yeah, _tired_ ,’ Daryl grins.

‘Stop flirting please!’ Amaka shouts from where she’s leaning against the big doors with a bored expression. When she sees that they’re at the bottom of the stairs, she pretends to throw up.

Felix loops his arm around Hakeem’s shoulders and jumps up into his arms, one hand on his forehead. ‘You think I look tired, honey? You should take me to bed then!’

Hakeem drops him immediately and pulls a face.

‘Trash,’ Taiwo snorts as he pushes the door open. ‘All of you are trash.’

Hakeem stomps with his boot.

‘Except for Hakeem, who’s been promoted to Ultimate Best Friend. Suck it,’ Taiwo aims a kick at Felix, who rolls out of the way with a grin on his face. ‘I don’t make the rules, man.’

Daryl shakes his head and jumps over Felix to head into the community.

Nothing much has changed since the last time he was here. Fires are roaring in several areas, combined with the heat from the lamps, it’s not as cold as he thought it would be in the tunnel system. The school now looks like a proper classroom with solid walls that only have a couple of windows. The marketplace is bustling on the middle platform. Three tables at the back are covered with clothing. People are rooting through it to find their size.

He can hear the sound of metal on metal, which means that the blacksmith is still at work. The smell of roasted meat drifts past from the big kitchen. People sit on the edge of the platform with plates on their laps. They glance up when the big doors open. As soon as they spot Daryl, they lean towards each other, whispering something. One even turns to whistle and get his friend’s attention, the head nod towards the door anything but subtle.

Daryl narrows his eyes.

Taiwo pretends not to see it. ‘Want to dump your stuff in my room and then get something hot into you?’

‘Stop flirting!’ Amaka sniggers behind them.

Daryl snorts when Taiwo looks horrified and then enraged. ‘Can you take me to Mason first? Just want to let him know I’m here, thank him for letting me stay a while, ya know.’

‘A true southern gentleman,’ Felix moans, ‘be still my heart.’

‘Good lord, I take it back; y’all are way worse than Carl ‘nd Beth.’ His ears burn while he runs after Taiwo up the staircase to Mason’s quarters. They walk through the room where their first meetings had been and then step into some sort of living room.

Mason is studying a map of the city at his desk. Finger tracing streets and gaze flicking to another map that seems to be similar. It takes Daryl a second to realize that there’s a map of the subway tunnels right next to the normal one. He can see a couple of red circles and-

Mason folds the map and shoves it aside. ‘Daryl. Welcome back.’

‘Didn’t mean to peek, sorry. Merle calls me a nosy little shit all the time,’ Daryl grins. He shakes the man’s hand. ‘Maggie, Rick and Cyndie send their regards. I have a gift for you.’ He shrugs the backpack off his shoulders and digs around in it. ‘From Maggie and Rick, for being so generous with the vaccines.’

Taiwo stands on the tips of his toes to look over his shoulder into the bag.

Daryl elbows him playfully to get him to back off before handing a handgun to Mason. Shiny dark metal, wrapped snuggly in a brand-new leather holster that’s been engraved with various sized circles.

Mason looks surprised. He takes the gun and examines it. The magazine holds six shots. ‘It’s a beautiful gun.’

‘A sign of good faith.’

‘Thank you very much,’ Mason says softly as his fingers curls around the handle. ‘You’re welcome here anytime, for how long as you want.’

‘’cause I bring the good stuff?’

‘Exactly,’ the man snorts.

‘Can I visit the other D.C. places?’ Daryl asks hopefully.

The corner of Mason’s mouth quirk upwards. ‘Let’s see if you burn this one down first, shall we? I’m sure Taiwo will be happy to take you on a tour the next time you visit.’

‘Sure,’ the Dixon nods. ‘So… Can I – like, get a room somewhere, or… I could stay in the house above ground again, if you want.’

‘It’s too cold now,’ Mason dismisses immediately.

‘Wait, you can stay in my room,’ Taiwo says with a frown.

Daryl scratches at his cheek and doesn’t look at him.

‘There’s a room right below here,’ Mason says while his gaze flickers between the two teenagers. ‘You can take that one. The keys are right next to the door, on the hook.’ He looks thoughtful when he shakes the Dixon’s hand once more.

‘Thank you,’ Daryl nods. He throws his backpack over his shoulder and heads out, back through the office and down the steep stairs. He can feel Taiwo’s gaze burning on his neck and the back of his head. The keys are right where Mason had said they would be.

The room is small. There’s a double bed and a closet, barely enough space to walk to the window that’s on the left side of the bed. Daryl drops his backpack on the floor and shrugs his crossbow onto the bed before opening the closet. There are spare blankets packed in there.

Taiwo closes the door. ‘You can stay in my room, if you want. And I don’t- Amaka and I can share a bed, you can take mine. Or hers. Whichever one you want.’

‘Thanks,’ Daryl mutters. He fidgets with the knob on the door of the closet. ‘But I’d rather sleep here.’

‘ _Okay_.’ Taiwo draws the word out. ‘Yeah. Whatever you want.’

Daryl wobbles on the balls of his feet. ‘Cool. Thanks. It’s just –‘ he waves a vague hand. ‘I like sleeping alone,’ he lies.

‘It’s fine.’

‘Cool.’

‘Yeah…. So… you want to get some food? Or some tea or whatever? Vera’s got a shift in the kitchens, she makes the herbal tea? It’s really good.’

Daryl laughs softly and shakes his head.

Taiwo frowns. ‘What?’

‘We talkin’ about herbal tea now?’

‘I’m just trying to fill the awkward silence, man. I don’t know.’

Daryl walks over to him. Nerves cause his fingertips to tingle and he feels a deep blush rising up from his chest to the tips of his ears, but it doesn’t matter. He stops when their boots almost touch. Looking up, their noses do too.

Taiwo’s gaze flickers down to his lips briefly.

‘Can I…?’

‘ _Yeah_!’ Taiwo says quickly.

Daryl laughs, feeling lighter when the other boy grins too. He can now see the blush on his cheeks, the way he, too, hesitates before settling his hand on the Dixon’s hips. It makes him feel better that he’s not the only nervous one.

Everything feels better when he finally leans in and kisses that grin right off of his face.

 

 

They sit at one of the picnic tables closest to the roaring fire of the kitchen. The heat radiates onto Daryl’s back, but he’s glad that he can wrap one hand around a steaming cup of tea too. It tastes similar to the kind Beth likes to make after a night watch. He wonders whether it used to be a common recipe. His free hand is underneath the table, resting on the inside of Taiwo’s knee.

Felix, Amaka and Taiwo are bickering about what they’ll be doing tomorrow. Daryl ignores it for the most part. There’s a notepad between him and Hakeem. The other boy is telling him how he used to live in a small town, a couple of hours from here. They’d been evacuated to the capital three days before the meltdown. None of the evacuation zones managed to hold in the end.

His mother had opened a manhole for him when the place got overrun. Had just pushed him down into the dark, closing the lid between them seconds before the walkers tore her apart. He’d been down in the tunnel system for four days on his own before Taiwo’s father found him.

Daryl reads it with a heavy heart. ‘I’m sorry, man. That fucking sucks.’

Hakeem shrugs and acts like he’s throwing something over his shoulder.

‘In the past?’

The boy nods.

‘Yeah,’ Daryl hums. ‘Still sucks though.’

There are people taking breaks at the other tables. They keep glancing at him. Some he recognizes as guards or vendors of the various stalls, but most he doesn’t know. It’s harder to ignore them than the people staring at the Kingdom or Oceanside. He feels more on edge in the strange surroundings and isn’t used to being alone anymore. At any of their colonies, his own name and reputation would protect him. The wrath of Maggie, Merle, Rick and Ezekiel enough to keep their communities in check should his own infamous glare falter.

He’s confident in his own abilities and knows he could take on anyone in a fair fight. But he’s hopelessly outnumbered here and even his connection with Taiwo feels too shaky to be trusted.

‘That him?’ he hears a woman ask. ‘That’s him, right? Next to Tai?’

‘Keep your voice down! Yes, that’s him, hush!’

Daryl takes his hand off Taiwo’s knee to let it rest on his gun instead.

Taiwo looks down between them and frowns. ‘What’s wrong?’ he whispers.

‘Nothing,’ Daryl murmurs before turning back to Hakeem. ‘So what do you do around this place?’

Hakeem starts writing again. He’s learning how to take care of their electrical grid to keep the lamps going. Most days he’s above ground to maintain the solar panels and windmills. He has old textbooks from a university library and grins when Daryl says he hates doing math. He loves it. He perks up when Daryl explains how they’re trying to get energy from rivers and that Alexandria’s solar panels still work. He’d love to see their systems.

Vera comes over. Her hair sticking to her temples from the sweat causes by standing next to the fires all day. The shirt she’s wearing is dirty like she’s been wiping her hands on it. Hips swaying as she maneuvers through the labyrinth of tables and benches. She throws a bowl onto the table and plops down between Hakeem and Felix.

‘You got us fries?’ Felix abandons his bickering to grab a handful.

‘ _Made_ us fries, but I put it on Amaka’s tab,’ Vera says. ‘You owed me,’ she says when her friend makes an outraged noise. She grabs one of the fries and pops it into her mouth. Pale eyes focus on Daryl. ‘You’re back.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Did you blow up an entire convoy of Saviors?’

Daryl freezes.

‘Vera, what the fuck,’ Taiwo hisses. ‘Shut the hell up about that!’

‘What?’ Vera smacks with a frown. ‘Everyone’s talking about it. What did you expect? The guys came back from the Kingdom with these crazy stories, I just wanna know whether it’s true. So is it?’

Daryl works his jaw while everyone but Taiwo looks at him. ‘Yeah,’ he mutters, rubbing his thumb over the wood of the table, ‘I did.’

‘That’s fucking crazy. Have some fries.’ She nudges the bowl towards him and bats Felix’s hand away when he wants to grab more. ‘So are you some kind of royalty? They talk about you like you’re fucking royalty out there.’

Daryl shakes his head.

‘But you’re part of Rick Grimes’ group, right?’

‘Yeah…’

Vera sniffs. ‘Makes you royalty. _Rick Grimes of Alexandria_. Does he really use a _hatchet_?’

‘I’m serious,’ Taiwo says as he leans forward to glare at her, ‘shut the hell up!’

‘I’m just trying to get to know your boyfriend, chill out you freak.’

‘Are you calling my twin a freak, because if you are, we’re going to have a problem!’ Amaka laughs as she pretends to roll up her sleeves and ball her hands into fists.

‘You know I’m right,’ Vera says while rolling her eyes.

‘Know what’s freaky?’ Felix pipes up. ‘There’s this animal that-‘

Daryl doesn’t listen to the story. He works his jaw and stares at his plate, trying to get his hand to stop shaking on his gun. When Taiwo touches his back, he flinches and leans away from it. He glances over his shoulder and wonders whether those people are talking about him, too. Laughter erupts at another table. Daryl cringes, ducking his head and trying to disappear between Taiwo and Hakeem.

‘Nobody cares about your dumbass story,’ Vera sighs when Felix finally takes a break to breathe.

‘I was trying to diffuse the tension.’

The girl flicks a fry at him. ‘Failed. I don’t know why you’re freaking out,’ she tells Daryl. ‘They worship the ground you walk on over there, of course people are curious. _I_ don’t care, but hey, someone will take a guard shift above for a bit of gossip, so help a girl out. ‘s cold out there.’

Daryl stands up abruptly. He glances at Taiwo. ‘Can we listen to some music or something?’

‘Yeah of course.’ Taiwo gets up.

‘That was a joke!’ Vera says while throwing up her hands, ‘Of course I wouldn’t.-‘

Daryl ignores it and weaves through the labyrinth of tables before jumping down the platform to get to the next one. It doesn’t surprise him that he hears Taiwo jump down behind him. The hand curling around his right wrist causes him to jump though.

‘Sorry,’ Taiwo says immediately. He holds his hands up in surrender as they stand on the tracks. ‘She really doesn’t mean it. She just likes to rile people up. And I’m sorry that everyone is looking at you, talking about you -the first group has been to the Kingdom and they came back with all these stories and-‘

‘Shut up, I don’t give a shit,’ Daryl bites out before jumping up the next platform. Hand scraping over concrete, slipping between the train car and the platform to walk towards Taiwo’s room. Instead of heading in, he passes the door.

‘It’s this one!’ Taiwo calls out.

‘I know,’ Daryl mutters. His hand on the cold metal of the train until it ends. He jumps onto the tracks and sits down, breath ghosting in front of him. It’s dark here. He can barely see Taiwo when he rounds the corner and stares at him.

A flame erupts between them. Daryl lights a cigarette and breathes the smoke in.

Taiwo sits down on the platform. He doesn’t say anything.

Daryl smokes. His hands relax and shoulders slump. The last hour keeps replaying like the emergency broadcast, the same thing over and over and over. He hadn’t minded Felix asking about Shiva, or wanting to know whether Ezekiel really has a sword hidden in his cane. The question about the Savior’s convoy had bothered him, but not as much as the whispers and looks had.

It shouldn’t have blindsided him. He’d known a group had gone to the Kingdom from Taiwo’s and Jayla’s letters, and later Ezekiel’s report that the meeting had gone well.

Maybe if he’d just asked Vera to cut it out, she would have. There hadn’t been any malice in her voice or eyes, she hadn’t wanted to put him on the spot or on trial there and then. She’d just been curious and blunt about it.

He did blow up that convoy. He knows what he has done, and why he has done it.

‘It’s weird being on my own,’ Daryl says suddenly. ‘Feels like walkin’ on cracked ice.’ He takes a final drag and throws the cigarette away. ‘I’m sorry for freaking out. Just needed some time.’

‘Take all the time you need.’

‘I’m fine now.’

‘Okay,’ Taiwo draws the word out and scratches at the base of his neck. ‘So, you want to listen to some music now, or…?’

‘No, let’s head back. I didn’t even grab some fries, goddamn,’ he curses with a laugh. ‘I haven’t had fries since the beginning, and I got too…’ he waves a vague hand, ‘to grab some.’

Taiwo gets up too and holds out his hand to hoist the Dixon back onto the platform. ‘I can get us some more, no problem. And… you know you’re not alone here, right?’

Daryl grins and knocks their shoulders together. ‘Yeah.’

 

 

Three hours later, he’s sitting around a campfire with Taiwo’s friends and some of the vendors who wrapped up late. Hands around a bowl of hot soup, a blanket draped over his shoulders. The long day is catching up to him. Cheeks rosy from the wind and cold, tiredness causing his eyes to be even smaller than usual.

He listens to Felix’s wild stories. Half of them sound made up and going by Taiwo’s exasperated sighs and moans, the other half didn’t quite happen like that either. It doesn’t really matter. The stories are funny either way.

It’s strange to hear stories about Taiwo, and people he has never met. A story about a woman who had to brace his fingers after Hakeem somehow managed to slam a car door shut on them. The old guy who refuses to learn how to say _Taiwo_ correctly. The little boy who’d followed him around for days, imitating his every move.

‘That was some cute shit,’ Vera giggles while carding her fingers through Hakeem’s hair. They’re curled up together against the cold.

‘I’m glad Laurie took him in,’ Taiwo says. ‘He used to follow me into the tunnels and get lost. Dangerous. Not every part of the system has been cleared, just the main ones we use for running, and even those aren’t very secure.’

‘Remember when Duke pretended to be a walker and Amaka almost fucking killed him by accident?’ Felix laughs.

Daryl quirks an eyebrow and Felix happily tells him the story about a teenager in another part who’d wanted to embarrass Taiwo by scaring him in the tunnels. Instead of catching the teenager alone like he’d planned, he’d almost caught Amaka’s knife between his ribs. The Dixon snorts when Felix pretends to screech like Duke had done at the sight of the unexpected knife.

‘He tried,’ Taiwo deadpans.

‘Me ‘nd Carl have done a lot of stupid stuff, but we’ve never done that,’ Daryl laughs as he gets up to put his empty bowl on a table by the kitchen. He’s seen others put their dirty dishes there too and glances over his shoulder.

Taiwo sticks his thumb up.

Daryl puts the bowl down and heads back. When he sits down again, he makes sure it’s a couple of inches closer to the other boy. Their thighs pressing together, shoulders brushing.

‘Smooth,’ Taiwo whispers into his ear.

‘Shuddup.’

His boyfriend laughs and drapes his arm over his shoulders, tucking him closer. ‘Are you cold?’

‘No,’ Daryl says and his ears burn.

‘Good. Hey, tomorrow - do you want to-‘

‘ _We thought of our question_!’ Three kids come tearing over, jumping over the tracks and climbing onto the platform. The adults back at the train cars laugh at their enthusiasm. A couple of them raise their hand when Daryl looks up and adjusts his baseball cap.

Daryl waves back. ‘You did, huh? Spit it out then,’ he says when the kids come to a halt before him and Taiwo. They wobble on their feet nervously, wringing their hands and biting their lips. Some glance at the crossbow that’s resting right behind him against the wall. Others catch a glimpse of the gleaming gun strapped to his thigh.

One of them takes a deep breath and opens his mouth.

‘What’s your horse’s name?’ a girl asks quickly.

Another girl gasps with outrage and starts pummeling her arm, ‘that wasn’t our question! _That wasn’t our question_! Stupid! Stupid! _Stupid_!’

‘Tess, cut it out, you’ll hurt her,’ Taiwo says sternly.

‘But that’s not fair!’ Tess wails. ‘Mom! _Mom_!’ She starts running back to the train car. ‘Senna messed it up, mom!’

The boy sulks with his arms folded in front of her chest. ‘We wanted to know about Carl.’

‘You can ask me about Carl tomorrow,’ Daryl says with a smirk before turning to the little girl. ‘Her name is Khamsin.’

‘What does that mean?’

Daryl wags his finger at her. ‘One question every day I’m here. That’s the rule.’

‘How long are you staying?’ One of the kids asks breathlessly.

‘Just a little while,’ Daryl says,’ so pick your questions carefully. And hey, no more of that shit you pulled just now,’ he tells Senna, who has the decency to look a little guilty. ‘If y’all picked a question, stick with it. You ain’t makin’ no friends this way.’

A woman is standing near the train with the little girl on her hip. She calls the rest of the children back to her. It’s time for bed.

‘I’m sorry,’ Senna whispers.

‘s cool, just don’t do it again,’ Daryl smiles. ‘G’night.’

The kids scramble again. Taiwo nudges his boyfriend’s ear with his nose. ‘So you’re not just great with Judith, Hershel and Asskicker, but just kids in general?’

Daryl bites on his lip and glances at the other boy. ‘Judith and Asskicker are the same person.’

‘What?’

‘It’s her nickname, you idiot!’

‘How am I supposed to know? You wrote about Judith in one paragraph, Asskicker in the other, I just thought you had two sisters!’

‘I do, but it’s Beth and Judith. Maybe three, if you count Enid, but that’s kinda weird because she’s dating Carl-‘

‘And that’s your brother,’ Taiwo says. ‘I remember that bit, but Asskicker came out of nowhere, man.’

Daryl laughs and shakes his head. ‘You’re an idiot. Can you sit back against the wall?’

Taiwo scoots back, ‘yeah, why?’

Daryl crawls over and then gets up just long enough to jump over one leg, settling between both of them. He drapes the blanket over them and leans against his boyfriend’s chest. ‘Cold.’

‘Wouldn’t want that,’ Taiwo grins. He loops his arm around the Dixon, chin on his broad shoulder. Together, they listen to a story one of the vendors is telling about the gas station he used to work at. Daryl chuckles and he can feel Taiwo grin and press a kiss to his neck.

Daryl shivers again. It’s not because of the cold.

 

 


	33. Exploring

 

* * *

 

 

 

The room is cold when he wakes up. Daryl rolls to his side and burrows his face into the soft pillow. He stretches, booted feet scraping over the matrass while he yawns. Fingertips ghost over his knife hidden beneath the pillow, tracing his favorite flowers before gripping it tightly. With a soft groan, he sits up against the headboard.

He balances the knife on the palm of his hand. The blade glints in the semi-darkness of the room. It has quickly become one of his most prized possessions, though he has many that are dear to him. Back home, there had only been two things he had grabbed before bolting. The framed picture of his mother and his crossbow.

Now he has the wedding bands he treasures, and the number 22 he never takes off. He still has the picture of his mother, and the picture of Glenn. The angel wings as his trade-mark. The new bow. Khamsin even. And the knife that holds a promise he must keep no matter how dark his thoughts get and how much he wants to quell the ache with blood and scars.

Instead of less, he’s gotten more attached to keepsakes. Maybe the fear of losing them will lessen when he has immortalized people on walls but he doubts it. Walls fall and homes burn. It’s only a matter of time in most cases. Nothing lasts, and he’ll miss Barrington House when it’s ashes and sooth.

More than once, he has thought of going back. Of seeing the prison and wandering through those dark hallways once more, hoping to see the memorial of his father on the walls one last time. Maybe Carl would come and they’d sleep in their old room, voices bouncing in the dark. He’d climb into that watchtower and sit on the platform and pretend that Shane was leaning against the railing next to him.

Or they’d go to where the farm used to be and see what’s left of it. Beth could come and they’d rummage through the rubble together until they’d find something she would recognize. Silver spoons they’d only use on Sundays. The door handle to her old bedroom. Jewelry blackened by the fire.

With Merle by his side, he could make it all the way home. They could take the bike, he wouldn’t even mind if his brother would force him to ride on the back. They could pretend it was his brother’s anyway, the one he’d forgotten about and then beaten for. He wonders whether the trailer is still there. Maybe there’s someone hiding out in their hunting cabin. He hopes not. It was a bad place.

He's not even sure why he wants to go back to the trailer. Everything that happened there is gone - over. There are no neighbors anymore to ask why they’d never called the police. There’s no ghost to beat up now that he’s strong and quick enough. He could burn the place down, but it’s already ashes in his memory.

He supposes he could go to try and find that old radio. The one his mom used to dance to in their kitchen, the one his father never sold for some reason. He could take the two steps from his old bedroom to his dad’s, remembering when it used to take him more than ten. He could jump on the bed and pretend that Will tackled him into the pillows, tickling him all over until they were both shrieking with laughter.

It’s gone, he thinks while putting the blade in the sheath. There’s no point in dragging Merle anywhere he doesn’t want to be and he doubts Beth wants to see the ashes of her family after all these years. Carl is busy building a new community. He probably doesn’t care about the rubble they’ve left behind.

With a sigh, Daryl gets up. He shrugs out of the sweater and puts his shirt, hoodie and leather jacket back on. He grabs his gun from the nightstand and pushes the curtain away from the window. The lights seem to be warming up gradually. The whole community is still made out of shadows and the flickering light of the fire pits. It’s probably still early. The market hasn’t opened yet.

The crossbow is a comforting weight on his back while he pushes the desk away from the door. He checks his weapons one last time before stepping outside and locking the door behind him. Sleep-tousled hair is hidden by his baseball cap.

There are only a couple of people up. Daryl hesitates in front of his door but then heads towards the kitchen. A woman is stirring in a large pot. She seems to be surprised to see him up already.

‘Good morning, Daryl.’

‘Morning, ma’am.’ His voice is rough from sleeping. He rubs at the side of his head and gives her a sheepish smile. ‘How does it work here? I gotta trade for some tea or something? Vera said something about keeping tabs?’

She laughs and already moves to grab him some hot water. ‘Visitors eat for free. Mason’s orders.’ Herbs are thrown into the water. She stirs it before handing it over. ‘What do you want to eat?’

‘I’ll wait for the others,’ Daryl says, ‘but thanks for the tea. The lights; they mimicking sunrise?’

‘Yes. Thankfully they figured out how to operate them properly. They used to come on in one bright flash. Let me tell you; it wasn’t pretty at six in the morning. Now everyone gets wakened by a soothing sunrise,’ she says with wry smile. ‘Except Taiwo of course. Amaka woke up for her guard duty a couple of hours ago. She’s at the main gate above.’

Daryl frowns. He folds his hands around the hot cup. ‘What do you mean? It’s too dark in the tunnel to catch the lights?’

‘You can flash lights, pound drums, explode barrels next to that man all you want, but he’s not even going to stir. Normally his sister kicks him out of bed, or else he’ll wake up at noon.’

‘He lazy?’

‘Oh no,’ the woman says hurriedly. ‘He’s not lazy. Just… everything has its time, and he prefers that time to be after noon. But I’m sure Felix and Hakeem will be here soon, if you don’t feel like waking a dragon from its slumber.’

‘Ain’t scared of nothing,’ Daryl grins as he starts to make his way towards the train. The tips of his ears burn. Not only does everyone in Washington D.C. know his name apparently. Everyone also knows exactly why he’s here. ‘Thanks again for the tea. ‘s real good.’

‘You haven’t even tasted it yet!’

Daryl slips into the darkness of the tunnel to save himself from answering. His breath ghosts in front of him. The tea is still steaming hot. When he walks past the train to get to the end, he can hear people getting up and preparing for the day. Soft voices. Sloshes of water in a bowl, children whining about having to go to school and guardians trying to shush them before they wake the whole train up. It reminds him of Barrington’s extension and its morning bustle.

He stops dead in his tracks when he sees the door to Amaka and Taiwo’s room. It’s wide open. Hesitant fingers curl around his knife again before he forces them to relax. The door had creaked and groaned last time Taiwo had forced it shut. He doubts Amaka would go through so much trouble in the middle of the night. It might not have woken her brother up, but surely other people would have sat up in their beds because of the racket.

After taking a deep breath to calm his flaring nerves, he steps inside the room. The shadows are all unfamiliar but his hand searches for the oil lamp that’s supposed to be on his left. His fingers nearly tip it over. With a soft curse, he catches it and turns to little wheel to ignite a small flame.

Shadows melt away. He’s standing next to Amaka’s bed. She didn’t make it before leaving, the blankets a mess and pillows thrown everywhere. More rugs cover the floor now. The walls are still that pale blue, records fill cabinets and bookcases. They even form piles around the other bed.

Daryl smiles when he sees how many blankets are piled onto the bed. Some have fallen onto the floor, a couple of pillows have escaped the mess as well. He walks over to put his mug of tea on the bedside table and grab one of the soft blankets. He looks down at his friend.

Taiwo is sleeping on his back. Legs and waist covered by sheets and blankets, one arm curled up around his pillow. In the soft light of the flame, he looks flawless. Toned arms, stomach, muscles relaxed and soft in his sleep. Wild curls freed from his beanie; a dark halo around his head.

Daryl’s gaze moves slowly from his face down to his neck, the broad shoulders, to his chest. He’s not sure whether he’s more surprised or annoyed by the fact that his boyfriend isn’t wearing a shirt. The blanket gets twisted in his hands. He bites on his lower lip and wants to move forward to cover the other boy. He backs away with a sped-up heartbeat when Taiwo moves.

His right arm moves up to curl around his pillow as well. Muscles bulge. Taiwo seems to be stretching, muscles moving beneath his skin. He moves his hips, feet scraping over the blankets, arms coming down a bit before…

‘You’re such an asshole,’ Daryl laughs before grabbing a pillow and smashing it into is boyfriend’s belly. ‘Stop flexin’, goddammit!’

Taiwo chuckles. He blindly grabs the blankets and starts pulling them up again. ‘I thought I’d put on a show for you! Holy shit, I’m freezing.’

‘’s what you get. How did you even know I would come down here? Or have you just been freezing your nipples off hopin’?’

‘Honestly? Freezing my nipples off while hoping,’ Taiwo laughs. ‘I knew someone would send you down here sooner or later to get me out of bed. Every time I heard someone come down the platform? Tadaa!’ he moves the blanket down to bare his chest before covering himself again, shaking with laughter.

Daryl swats at him with a blanket. ‘You could have just joined me for breakfast instead of flashin’ every poor soul who wanders past here. Good lord.’

‘Where’s the fun in that though?’ Taiwo wiggles his eyebrows and then laughs again. ‘I’m just kidding. I’ve been up for a while actually! Amaka managed to wake me up.’

‘Why’d she do that?’

‘Because I read somewhere,’ Taiwo says as he opens the nightstand’s drawer to reveal a stack of letters, ‘that you wake up at sunrise every single day and I wanted to have breakfast with you. Turns out you also block your door with something. Is that a Hilltop or Alexandria thing?’

‘Kingdom, were scared Shiva were gonna bite me in my butt,’ Daryl grins.

‘Nobody blames her for being tempted, look at it!’

‘Oh my god.’

Taiwo pulls the blanket back so there’s free space on the bed. He pats it. ‘Park it right here for a little while. Everyone is going to be down at the kitchens right now. If we go later, everyone will have fucked off to do their chores or shifts. Mason won’t let us out until Amaka’s group comes back from clearing, so there’s no point in hurrying anyway. They’ll save us some food, I promise,’ Taiwo laughs. ‘They always have to save me some, I don’t like getting up early.’

‘Yeah, the woman in the kitchen told me. Lazy-ass!’

‘Can’t all have such a perfect one,’ Taiwo smirks and laughs when Daryl’s cheeks redden. ‘And I’m not lazy, thank you very much. I take most of the nightshifts, that’s why you can’t wake me up at the crack of dawn usually. I’ve just fallen asleep –like –fuck off. Our mom used to say that –Amaka likes mornings better, right? So our mom used to say that she only had one kid. It just depended on the time of day which one she had.’

Daryl sits down on the edge of the bed and undoes the laces of his boots. He kicks them off seconds later. ‘Amaka’s your only sibling, right?’

‘Yes. Two for the price of one and our parents were _done_. They didn’t have a big family either. My dad had a brother, but my mom was an only child. Nothing quite as complicated as your family tree.’

‘What about Mason? He ain’t nothing to you?’ Daryl takes his jacket and hoodie off. He throws them into the corner next to the bed.

Taiwo shrugs and nods at the same time.  ‘Of course he’s _something_. He takes care of us. He’s like our guardian, but he’s not our family. It’s just Amaka and me now.’ There’s finality in his voice.

The Dixon sits down on the bed, leaning against the headrest. ‘Must’ve been kinda nice that she’s the same age, huh?’

‘I guess so.’ Taiwo rolls to his side and supports his head with his hand, leaning on his elbow. ‘I always had someone to play with for sure, but we were kind of glad our school put us in different classes.’

‘Why?’

‘So we both had stories to tell about school when we got home and we weren’t just fighting about who got to tell them. Got different friends, too. We’d still sit together during lunch though,’ Taiwo laughs. ‘There was no separating us for long.’

Daryl smiles.

‘Your brother is a lot older, right? Merle, I mean.’

‘Fifteen years older. He’s practically a corpse, don’t get no ideas about switchin’.’

‘What the fuck,’ Taiwo chuckles, giving his thigh a shove.

‘Kidding.’

Taiwo’s hand lingers on his thigh and then tugs at his jeans. ‘Come down here, you’re giving me a crick in my neck.’

Daryl shimmies down. He has shared plenty of beds with plenty of people but never quite like this. It was always Merle before all this, and Carl and Beth after the farm fell and the nights got cold. Claiming the spot between Glenn and Shane, hopping over Eugene to curl up next to Rosita and Tara, sleeping with one hand on Judith’s foot to make sure she’s okay.

Now he pulls the blanket over his shoulder against the chill and lets his head rest on a pillow. There’s a gap between him and Taiwo but he can feel his body heat.

‘Thanks,’ his boyfriend sighs, getting comfortable again.

Daryl brings his hand up to gnaw on his fingernail. He knows he’s supposed to move closer. There wasn’t ever an inch of room between Glenn and Maggie, or Rick and Lori back in the day. He thinks that he should reach out but he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do. Or touch. Maybe play with his hair like Michonne likes to do with Rick’s, or just hold his hand like Eric did with Aaron whenever they felt like it.

Not knowing makes him nervous. He shifts, frowns and bites on his fingers until it hurts.

‘Did you like school?’ Taiwo asks suddenly.

‘What?’

‘Back in the day, did you like going to school?’

‘No way. You?’

‘I did.’ Taiwo frowns. ‘Why didn’t you?’

‘I dunno,’ Daryl murmurs even though he does. ‘Why do you sound so fucking surprised?’

‘I dunno,’ Taiwo echoes with laughter coloring the words. ‘You just look like the type who liked going to school. I always think that school was a bit like these places, you know?’ he waves vaguely at the rest of the train. ‘And going by the stories and your letters… everyone just automatically likes you.’

Daryl snorts. ‘Ain’t always a good thing.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Never mind.’ Daryl scratches at his cheek. ‘I guess it’s kinda the same, in a way. Except Dixon now means; I’m gonna mess you up if you try something. Or at least; _someone_ is going to fuck you up, right? Back in school it meant; someone is going to fuck _me_ up during lunch.’

Taiwo raises an eyebrow.

‘Redneck trash and not a dollar to our name, man,’ Daryl says. ‘Never had the right kind of shoes. Couldn’t get those new playing cards that made you the shit, right? Pretended not to give a fuck, but Paul - Jesus I mean - always claims I’m a terrible liar.’

Taiwo nods. ‘Yeah, I guess school was pretty stupid in that sense. I mean, we had the right kind of shoes and everything. Must have made it easier.’

‘Guess.’ Daryl worries his bottom lip. ‘Did you like history class?’

‘Yeah, you?’

‘Yeah!’

And it’s easier after that, because it doesn’t look like Taiwo expects him to move closer and start playing with his hair. His own hands move too much to hold when he talks anyway. He tells about his favorite teachers and Daryl about his. They both had a friend who always got detention whether or not they’d deserved it. Taiwo spent some time in detention for being late while Daryl’s teacher were too worried what Will would do to keep him in school longer.

They both watched the same comics on Saturday morning. Both of them fighting with their siblings over the remote. Taiwo laughs over the kind of cereal Daryl used to love, the most artificial and sugary kind, and hadn’t been allowed to eat that himself. They both like apples. Taiwo pretends to throw up when Daryl says he liked banana’s before, and is amazed when the Dixon doesn’t know what a date tastes like.

‘If I can find some somewhere, you’re trying it.’

‘Sure,’ Daryl grins.

‘Talking about food, I’m hungry. Let’s get some breakfast and then get out of here.’

‘Where are we going?’

Taiwo shrugs, ‘wherever you want. I need to be back at sundown though, I’ve got a shift on the wall.’

Daryl nods. He watches how the other boy hops out of bed and grabs a shirt and sweater. Dark hair disappearing under his beanie again. He grins shyly when Taiwo catches him looking but doesn’t look away. The other boy bends over to put his boots on.

‘You’re right,’ Daryl smirks, ‘not everyone has a perfect ass. Shame.’

‘ _What_?’ Taiwo sounds outraged.

‘Don’t worry about it, man. Some people are just blessed and some are bending over and just… nothing, ya know?’

‘ _Nothing_?’

Daryl tries to hide his grin. ‘Nah…’

Taiwo raises an eyebrow. ‘You really are a terrible liar. Jesus was right.’

The Dixon chuckles. He stomps his own boots on and grabs his jacket. ’He usually is. It’s kinda annoying.’ It already feels warmer on the platform when he jumps out of the train. The lights are on now, a bright glow at the end of the tunnel.

‘I bet it is,’ Taiwo laughs as he jumps down next to him.

Daryl doesn’t flinch when his boyfriend puts an arm around his shoulders. He just lets himself be tucked close.

 

 

It’s not quite snowing when they walk through the abandoned streets of Washington but the sky is gray and angry looking. The wind rushes past, icy cold and howling. Water has been transformed into ice crystals overnight, causing windows to no longer be see through. Small puddles have frozen over. The ice cracks when Daryl steps onto it.

He follows Taiwo down the streets. They’re just wandering around at this point. The park nearby had been a desolate place and Daryl hopes they can come back when it’s spring and everything is blooming and green. The ice in the pond hadn’t been thick enough to hold their weight, which was the only reason they’d gone to the park in the first place.

Daryl puts his hands in the pockets of his jacket to try and keep warm. The green scarf covers most of his face. His gaze keeps flicking back to Taiwo, who’s walking about half a block ahead of him. Light on his feet, almost bouncing along to a silent beat, feet shuffling whenever he pauses for a second to listen to the echoes of walkers somewhere far away.

The dao is dripping with old blood from the couple of walkers they’ve run into this morning. It’s a beautiful weapon, that wicked-looking blade curving up into a sharp point. It’s even better when Taiwo swings it. He handles it without any effort, one blow enough to slice through a skull. It must be as sharp as Michonne’s katana.

Daryl glances up when they cross an intersection and stops dead in his tracks.

It takes Taiwo a minute to notice. ‘What’s wrong?’

The traffic lights aren’t working of course. One is even hanging by a single wire. The ones on the left have come down completely, the colored glass a kaleidoscope on the asphalt. There’s a barricade to lock one block down. The corpse of a soldier is rotting on it, picked apart by either predators or walkers. Someone took his boots.

‘Daryl!’

That’s not what caused him to stop of course. There are signs right next to the street lights, giving direction to drivers.

Taiwo comes jogging back, eyes wide with concern. ‘Daryl, what’s wrong, man?’

‘Can we go to the White House?’ The Dixon asks breathlessly.

Taiwo stomps his shoulder. ‘Don’t freak me out like that!’ He looks up at the signs and then laughs. ‘Well, we can go _look_ at the White House, but visit? No.’

‘It’s still there, right?’

‘Still there. Not as white anymore though,’ Taiwo grins. ‘We don’t usually go anywhere near that area. Several groups fought over the ruins for a long time. One won. They’re still there. Mason and them came to an agreement; we don’t try to take it and they’ll leave us alone. Sometimes we run into each other out here though,’ Taiwo says while gesturing to the city around them. ‘If that happens, just try to get out as fast as you can, and if it comes to that; let me do the talking.’

‘Shaky agreement?’

Taiwo shrugs. ‘An agreement with their leader doesn’t mean every soldier agrees. They occupy the White House. They believe the whole city is theirs. Some are friendly, we trade news sometimes, but it’s best not to take any chances.’

Daryl nods his understanding. ‘So no White House. Let’s keep going. Maybe we can go back to the Smithsonian?’

‘Herd spotted nearby,’ Taiwo says. ‘We’ll try tomorrow. Come on, I have another idea. Are you up for a climb?’

‘Err… sure?’

Forty minutes later, he regrets not declining a fucking climb. The stairs are endless. He keeps his eyes glued to the heels of Taiwo’s boots and tries to breathe through his nose. At least he can hear his friend panting too. Hearts racing, scarfs tugged down, gloves stuffed back into his pockets. Hoodie unzipped but there’s still sweat dripping down his sideburns.

He hasn’t missed electricity this much since… ever. Sometimes he’s fumbling with oil lamps at Barrington house and curses the person who’s taking their sweet time designing their new electrical grid. Or he’ll be under house arrest after a long trip and so bored that he wishes he could watch some cartoons like he used to do when he was young.

He hasn’t been in buildings high enough to wish that the damn elevator worked yet though. Until now. Their footsteps echo up and down the building. He can see the ground when he leans over the railing.

‘Stop, stop,’ he says when he really needs to catch his breath. He can’t see how many floors they still need to go up. ‘What happens when this gets overrun? A herd floods all this and we’re a thousand feet up in the air?’

‘There’s a way out once we get to the roof,’ Taiwo pants. ‘A safe way,’ he says when the Dixon glares at him. ‘Maybe just stop smoking, it’ll make this a lot easier, you know.’

‘Like you ain’t sweating your balls off. You sound like a wheezing dog, you idiot.’

‘I’m just looking out for you,’ Taiwo sniggers as he sets off again. ‘Because I care so much, baby!’

‘Shut the fuck up!’ Daryl laughs but he follows him.

Up, up, up they go.

Ten minutes later, Taiwo is waiting for him at the top. A cocky grin on his face.

‘This better we worth it, I mean it, man,’ Daryl wheezes.

‘It is,’ Taiwo laughs as he pushes the door open, ‘if only for the view.’

It’s the penthouse suite of a luxury apartment complex. The walls completely made of glass. The floors are clean. Gleaming in the watery sunlight of winter. Marble and gold everywhere, dark wooden floors that almost look warm to the touch. Hides piled onto leather couches. Candles unlit on golden standards, scattered around the entire apartment.

Daryl walks towards the big windows. He can see half of the entire city. It’s like looking down at one of his maps. Streets just thin stripes, rooftops dark in the maze of the city. Fire escapes and lakes and parking lots and burned out cars. He can see the river from here. Flowing rapidly, like a heartbeat slithering through everything man-made that’s crumbling. A bridge has collapsed and the water has swallowed the concrete whole.

He can see a herd moving far away and he wonders whether that’s where the Smithsonian is. He searches but can’t spot the White House, can’t see any other building he’s supposed to know from the eight o’clock news and history lessons. His breath fogs up the window. He quickly wipes it clean, not wanting to miss a second of seeing the new world like this.

‘Worth it?’

‘Yeah,’ he says. He’s never been this high up before, anywhere. No building in his small town had so many levels, and he hadn’t had any business being in Atlanta. Let alone be in one of the sky scrapers.

It’s not even a sky scraper, really. Just a really tall apartment building. He thinks about the famous New York skyline and wonders whether someone lives above the clouds there. Whether they’ve stocked all their rooms with cans and just sit in front of the window to watch how the world slowly dies.

He opens his mouth to say something but then closes it again. It feels like a stupid thing to admit; that he’s never been this high up anything before. ‘You ever been on an airplane?’ he asks instead.

‘Loads of times, why?’

‘No reason.’

He has so many questions. Did that feel the same as looking down here? Where did you go? Why? Were you scared the first time, the second time? Could you sleep the night before or did you stay awake? Does flying feel like falling from a high place? Does that feeling of your breath catching fade or only when your feet touch ground again?

It takes a long time before he can tear himself away from the window. He only realizes that it has been a long time because Taiwo is dozing on the couch. He has grabbed some hides and is looking at him with tiny, sleepy eyes.

Daryl ducks his head for a second. ‘Stop.’

‘With what?’ Taiwo murmurs.

Daryl walks over to him and hesitates. He kisses the tips of his fingers and presses them to his boyfriend’s forehead.

‘You think I’m cute.’ Taiwo sounds awfully pleased with himself.

‘Yeah,’ Daryl says softly before quickly moving on. The kitchen is empty. There’s a bathroom that has a golden bathtub. He catches his own shy grin in the broken mirror when he hears Taiwo whoop in the other room.

Another set of doors leads to the bedroom. He supposes he shouldn’t have been surprised to find a ridiculously large bed there. The penthouse is the most expensive apartment in the entire building and everything is made out of marble, hardwood or gold here. What does surprise him, is that the bed is round. He has never seen anything like it.

A giant circle. Heaps of blankets in front of the closet. More candles here, matchboxes too. He wanders around the bed and looks up. There’s a mirror on the ceiling. He doesn’t want to know what that has reflected over the years. It’s not hard to spot the box of condoms half-hidden behind a box of spare candles.

He opens door the living room and leans against the wall.

Taiwo tries to hide his smirk. ‘Guess how I knew this place was here? Public secret number one, you ever need to take a date somewhere.’ He snaps his fingers and points at the floor. ‘Right here. There’s a set of keys back in the tunnel system. You obviously don’t need them,’ he gestures to the open front door with his chin, ‘but they use it as a sort-of occupied-or-not system, you know? So people don’t run into each other here.’

Daryl lifts an eyebrow.

‘What?’

‘You made me climb a million stairs to show me your fuck-place?’

Taiwo snorts. ‘What? No! _Fuck-place_?’ he laughs. ‘Christ. The view, man. I wanted to show you the view.’

Daryl’s gaze travels over his boyfriend. ‘It’s pretty good, I guess.’ He pushes himself away from the wall and walks over. His hands feel clammy but he ignores the feeling. Ignores the nerves sending shivers up his spine when he reaches the other boy, who’s staring up at him now. A tiny smile drags the corner of his mouth up when he jumps up on the couch, one foot on either side of Taiwo’s hips.

Taiwo answers the smile when he sinks to his knees.

Hands cover his thighs as he straddles his boyfriend. Daryl puts one hand on his shoulder and leans further down still. Chapped lips on chapped lips, hungry but tamed with shyness. It’s not a dark tunnel, it’s not a quick peck before bed. He can see Taiwo’s pupils blow wide, can see himself as a reflection.

It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s pretty sure Taiwo knows how this works, and he’s learning fast. Another kiss, noses bumping and teeth catching lips in playful nips. A hand touches his neck, drags him closer.

He shifts so their hips slot together. Breath mixing, hitching when he presses down. He can feel Taiwo’s heartbeat when he lets his fingertips run down his neck, lets the palm of his hand stroke over his breast to feel his side, tugging him close as well. Feet kicking each other as they move restlessly.

Wet and warm. A soft whimper escapes his lips when Taiwo’s hand curls around his hip. His forehead comes to rest against his boyfriend shoulder. He glances down to see Taiwo roll his hips up, groins meeting. He gasps, noses the pulse point before kissing it.

The hand moves from his hip. Away at first, causing him to whimper, and then there are fingertips sneaking under his shirt.

He reaches down and stills the hand.

Taiwo opens his eyes and meets his. ‘Okay,’ he whispers, moving his hand back to its original position.

Daryl grins into the next kiss. And the next, the next, the next. They grow slower as his body comes to rest half on top his boyfriend. Fingertips trace ears and chins, find moles and scars, dimples when they smile.

Taiwo claims the final kiss and curls his arm around Daryl’s shoulders, seemingly enjoying his warmth and weight. He hums softly, a tune only he could name by artist and date of publication. A party trick he has studied for.

‘When you go back to Hilltop,’ Taiwo says softly when his song ends, ‘can I come with you?’

Daryl kisses his ear.

‘I’m serious.’

Daryl bites at the earlobe, gently tugging it.

‘Daryl.’

‘We don’t have a fuck-place there,’ the Dixon murmurs as he closes his eyes. ‘Let’s just stay here a while.’

Taiwo doesn’t laugh.

‘It’s nothing like this place,’ Daryl says. ‘You wouldn’t like it.’He grunts when Taiwo sits up abruptly, yanking his arm back and glaring at the hardwood floors.

‘I wouldn’t like it? Or _you_ wouldn’t like having me there?’

‘Of course I would.’ He sits up too. ‘Mason probably won’t let you come though, it’s a long ride and-‘

‘Go fuck yourself, Daryl,’ Taiwo mutters. ‘I’m going to take a piss. Leave me alone,’ he bites out before closing the bathroom door behind him with a bang.

 

 


	34. zippin' through the city

There's new amazing artwork for this series; a [Moodboard by iwillreadyourbooks](https://jamesjohneye.tumblr.com/post/178866184082/founding-fathers-by-jamesjohneye-i-love-it-so) 

I love it so much. Thanks again for making and sharing it.

 

Go show it some love!

 

 I'm sorry about the upload being this late. *waves vague hand* life.

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‘Does nobody back home know you like kissing guys or something?’

The door opens with a bang and Taiwo stalks back into the room, not two seconds after leaving. Daryl barely had enough time to reach for his pack of cigarettes. He pulls one out and searches for the lighter.

‘Is that it?’ his boyfriend demands. ‘Because whatever you said about Mason not letting me go? That’s so stupid.’

Daryl lights his cigarette and scratches at his chin. ‘Nah. That ain’t it.’

Taiwo waits a beat. ‘Then what is?’

‘Why’re you suddenly wantin’ to go to Hilltop, man?’ Daryl stands up so the other boy doesn’t loom over him. ‘Want to gawk at Maggie some? Shake Rick’s hand? Bet you wanted to go with those damn soldiers of yours to the Kingdom to have an audience with the king, huh? Pfft. Thought this was a me-and-you thing, and I’m right here, so what’s the goddamn problem?’

‘I just want to see where you live! You mention all these places in your letters, and they’re so important to you - I’d just like to see them. The train is a part of me; it’s filled with shit I like. My music, showed you the picture of our dad, everything. Why can’t I see your room at Hilltop? Or the art room at the Kingdom?’

‘There ain’t nothing to see, man! It’s a goddamn bedroom – an old classroom!’

‘You met my family!’ Taiwo says now, flinging his arm out to gesture towards the city. ‘Amaka, Felix, Mason – everyone! Even everyone from my commu-‘

‘Yeah, I don’t give a fuck about them,’ Daryl interrupts. ‘It’s some sort of exchange now? I met yours, so you get the golden ticket to Alexandria? Hell, you met Carl, Paul ‘nd Beth, so what’s this really about, huh? You mad because I didn’t want you touching me under my shirt or something?’

Taiwo scoffs. ‘You’re an asshole. I’m not talking to you anymore.’

‘See how long you last this time around,’ Daryl sneers as he walks around the apartment to smoke his cigarette. He looks at the books, but they’re all about design and fashion, nothing useful and nothing that would interest anyone back home. There’s an art book he thinks looks interesting but he doesn’t want to ask his boyfriend whether he can take it.

Taiwo sits down on the couch and folds his arms in front of his chest. Slouched, booted feet on the coffee table. He’s glaring at the carpet.

The simmering anger between them makes Daryl nervous. He stubs his cigarette out in the sink before moving back to the window. He can feel the cold radiating off the glass. Shaking fingertips draw lines in the fog of his own breath. There’s a buildings a couple of blocks away that’s been blackened by fire. He wonders whether it happened before or after.

He knows he’s not being fair. The words had spilled over his lips, as fast as drawing his knife or bringing up his bow and just as deadly. Defense mechanism, Shane had called it when he’d been young. Secretly, he’d been glad it hadn’t worked back then. Shane had instinctively known to push through it and he’d taught Glenn to do the same.

Daryl glances at Taiwo’s reflection in the window. For the first time, he’s scared someone might not try.

Don’t run, Paul always tells him, and he might not be running now, but he is hiding.

‘I shouldn’t have said that,’ Daryl says without looking back. ‘About you wantin’ -with my shirt? Thanks for stopping.’

Taiwo’s scowl darkens. ‘I’m not a creep.’

‘I know.’ His fingers fall away from the glass. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Yeah.’ There’s a short silence. ‘You’re a bit of a psycho, aren’t you?’

Laughter bubbles up from inside his chest, so sudden and unexpected that it just pours over his lips. He turns around. ‘Yeah. Just a tiny bit.’ Long strides carry him back to the couch. He falls onto it with a sigh. Thigh pressing against Taiwo’s, shoulders bumping. ‘There’s always someone lookin’,’ he says after a short silence. ‘Can’t take a piss at any of the communities without people whisperin’ about it afterwards. Everywhere I go; _Daryl Dixon from Alexandria. That’s him! That’s Maggie’s Daryl. I heard his own brother calls him monster. The little prince from the Sanctuary. Rick Grimes’ second son_.’ He sucks on his teeth. ‘It gets on my fucking nerves.’

Taiwo grunts and inspects his boot. He tightens the laces.

‘Maybe it’s fucking selfish, but I just want one thing for myself, ya know? Don’t need people hassling me about you, asking all these dumb questions, wanting to know every detail. It doesn’t concern them.’

Taiwo glances at him. ‘You haven’t told people about me, have you?’

‘What?’ Daryl scoffs. ‘I need to make some grand statement that I got a boyfriend or something?’

‘Does Maggie know my name?’

‘No. Why do you want Maggie to know your name? This ain’t about-‘

‘So the only people who know I exist are Carl and Jesus?’

‘You met Beth.’

Taiwo glares at him now. ‘Not because you introduced us, let me remind you. Christ! That’s so messed up.’

‘Why? What the fuck does it matter whether they know your name? You’re not dating them!’

‘I’m not going to be your big secret,’ Taiwo hisses. ‘And whatever you’re trying to cover up? That isn’t going to be your big secret for much longer. I was just happy you were coming over, I didn’t even think about why you wouldn’t want me to meet you at the Kingdom, or even at one of the safe houses half-way. You freaked out the moment you realized our soldiers have already been to the Kingdom, and that they heard the stories.’

Daryl sets his jaw.

‘I think most of those stories are true.’

‘Then you’re an idiot.’

‘Why won’t you just tell me which ones are true then? I don’t care about how Rick Grimes won the battle of Alexandria.’ Taiwo gives his boyfriend a puzzled look, ‘but how the hell did you blow up a _lake_?’

Daryl snorts. ‘Oh, that battle of Alexandr-‘

‘Yeah _that_ battle. How many battles have you fought, man?’

Daryl shrugs and shakes his head at the same time. ‘A lot. We won that one though. We’d found a bunch of gasoline – a truck full of it, and just dumped it all in the lake. It was my brother who blew it up with an RPG though – Merle,’ he adds when Taiwo raises an eyebrow. ‘The town was swarmed with walkers, the wall had come down. It worked.’

‘I bet.’

Daryl hums and stretches, putting his feet on the edge of the coffee table. ‘You’re right. They ain’t _secrets_ , exactly, but… ain’t no pretty tales either and you already think I’m a psycho…’

Taiwo huffs out a breath of laughter. ‘I haven’t heard anything crazy yet. You painted the cage of the tiger to look like a jungle. You’re a softie.’

‘A softie psycho,’ Daryl grins. ‘Yeah. Kinda sums me up, I guess.’ He rubs at his nose with the back of his hand. ‘And I didn’t mean to… keep you a secret or anything. I’m sorry if it came across like that. I just want to be sure before I let anyone close to my family.’

‘I understand _that_ ,’ Taiwo says with a nod. ‘Stop making up bullshit.’

‘The thing about the gossip was kind of true though.’

‘Kinda?’

‘Double edged sword,’ Daryl shrugs. ‘It’s annoying most of the time. Everyone knows my name though. They know what’ll happen when they hassle me. Or worse. Nobody tries no more.’

Taiwo looks suspicious. ‘You don’t seem the type to run to Maggie or Rick.’

‘They don’t know that. I want the arrow in their asses to be a surprise.’

His boyfriend laughs softly. ‘You shoot people in the ass a lot?’

The corner of Daryl’s mouth turns up in a smirk. He glances to his right.

‘ _No_ ,’ Taiwo says sternly, ‘don’t you dare make that joke, or say anything that –just; _no_.’

‘Hey, you brought me to your fuck-place.’

There’s a short silence. They can hear the wind rush past the high building but the sounds of the city have vanished. There are no growls of walkers, no skittering of animals and no metal creaking or doors slamming. It’s quiet up here. It must be beautiful early in the morning when the sun rises. Daryl can imagine them sitting in front of those large windows, bedsheets and blankets draped over them to keep warm while watching the orange glow spread over the city. Or maybe they could sit there late at night to see the stars that have never been this close before. He doubts Taiwo knows the constellations, he could teach him. Maybe they could share his music, an earbud in one ear each, R&b filling up their heads.

‘So,’ Taiwo starts, ‘is our fight over now?’

‘I dunno. Never done this before,’ Daryl laughs. ‘Are we good?’

‘Guess so,’ Taiwo grins. ‘Want to kiss and make up?’

‘We already made up!’

‘Shut up,’ Taiwo puts his hand around the back of Daryl’s neck and kisses him.

Daryl answers the kiss hungrily. They find their rhythm easily. No teeth clashing, no accidental nips at lips, Daryl reckons he’s getting rather good at all of this. His hands are steady as he cups Taiwo’s face, grins when he lets his fingernails run down the other boy’s neck and drags a moan from his lips. He grunts when Taiwo pushes him back but the surprise swirls into arousal as Taiwo straddles him, swinging one leg over easily. Hands moving over thighs to grab hold of sharp hips, fingers digging in.

‘Fuck,’ Taiwo breathes against his lips. ‘If we’re going to keep going… well, we’re in the right place, if you get what I’m saying.’

Daryl bucks his hips, grinning that it first makes his boyfriend groan before wildly grabbing hold of his shoulder to keep in place. ‘You said it was about the goddamn view.’

‘Totally.’ Taiwo sits up and grins, ‘what - you don’t like it?’

Daryl reaches up and traces the teenager’s jawline before lightly touching his swollen lips. ‘It’s beautiful.’

 

 

There’s a zip-line.

Daryl is standing on the fire escape of the building. The metal platform doesn’t feel very solid. It creaks whenever one of them moves. Daryl tries to stand very still but Taiwo doesn’t seem bothered by it. He checks the line by hanging from it for a second, bouncing up and down before landing on his feet again. He grabs two trolleys from a box and clips them onto the line before attaching the lanyard.

‘Okay, so when you jump, just hold on and-‘

‘Are you insane?’ Daryl hisses. ‘I ain’t jumpin’!’

‘Why not?’

‘Because my goddamn legacy isn’t gonna be; _Daryl Dixon who jumped off of DC’s fuck-place and died_ , you asshole!’

‘That does sound kind of lame.’ Taiwo wrinkles his nose. ‘People will think I’m really bad at it.’

‘Hello? The sadness should be about me dying, not you not takin’ a dickin’ right, okay?’

‘But it’s my reputation,’ Taiwo protests with a pout. ‘You’ll be dead, what do you care? I’d be a sex-less widower for the rest of my life because everyone will think you jumped to your death because of my bad moves.’ He reaches out and shoves the Dixon’s shoulder, ‘and hey! Who said anything about me taking it.’

‘If that’s the afterthought, you ain’t really complaining,’ Daryl grins as he shoves Taiwo and then puts his hands on his hips to push him up against the brick wall. The metal beneath their feet groans but neither notices. He hesitates, looks down at his hands before glancing up at his boyfriend again. ‘Have you ever... with anyone… ya know?’

‘Have I ever had sex with anyone?’ Taiwo asks just to see Daryl blush. ‘No. Not like sex-sex. Not _all the way_ , but I’m sure we’ll be able to figure it out. I mean – you haven’t either, right?’

‘Nah. First kiss, first everything, man.’

‘That why you want to take it slow? With your shirt and everything?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Okay, cool,’ Taiwo loops his arms around his boyfriend’s neck and beams at him. ‘Want to jump to your death now? I mean –zip line safely to the other side?’

Daryl lightly knocks their foreheads together. ‘Can we have _one_ normal conversation?’

‘Maybe later.’

Daryl steps closer and lets his forehead fall onto Taiwo’s shoulder, wrapping his own arms around his waist. ‘Might be dead later.’

‘I won’t let you fall to your death,’ Taiwo says as he hugs him tightly. ‘I promise.’

‘Okay,’ Daryl says but he doesn’t move away. Instead, he nuzzles his boyfriend, hands going from his back to the back pockets of his jeans. ‘What?’ he asks when Taiwo begins to laugh, ‘my hands are cold.’

‘And my ass is fire, I get it, you cheese ball. _I want to take it slow_ ,’ Taiwo says in a high-pitched voice, ‘ _but I’ll just grope you some with a dumb excuse_.’

‘Shuddup,’ Daryl murmurs as he relaxes against his boyfriend, enjoying the warmth and comfort he provides. They stand like that for a long time. Taiwo lazily traces the angel wings with his fingertips and sometimes reaches up to play with the short, dark blond hair that’s peeking out from under the baseball cap. It tickles.

‘How did you family find out?’ Taiwo asks suddenly. ‘You said they knew you liked kissing guys.’

Daryl groans.

Taiwo laughs. ‘They caught you with your pants down while drooling over some pictures or something?’

‘That’s what it felt like.’ Daryl can feel the tips of his ears burn.

‘Come on, man,’ Taiwo pushes him back lightly, creating some more distance between them so they can look at each other. ‘Tell the story! You know mine already.’

‘Fine, yeah. Ok, so this was before the war and after we blew up the lake, right? Rick and I, we went on this run together, found a shit ton of stuff in a truck. We stopped at this gas station to check it and got fucking robbed by this random-ass guy.’ Daryl shoots him a shy grin, ‘this hot as fuck random-ass guy.’

Taiwo laughs.

‘Shit. I thought my brain was broken. We managed to drag his ass back to Alexandria with us, I ran straight home to grab some dirty magazines to see if I could still get it up for girls, man. It freaked me out.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Everyone kind of found out when we went to Hilltop –he lived there, so we took him home and hung around a while. Rick figured it out first.’ Daryl huffs out a huff of laughter. ‘I had such a huge fuckin’ crush on that guy, I’m still amazed Rick was the only one who saw right away. I told Glenn ‘nd Maggie later.’

‘Did you ever tell the guy?’

Daryl laughs and tries to hide his face behind his hands.

Taiwo’s eyes grow big and then he laughs, too. ‘What did you do?’

‘Tried to kiss him, man. Got him on the cheek.’

‘Got some balls, I’ll give you that,’ Taiwo grins. ‘How did it go?’

‘He was nice about it, ya know? Said he were flattered but… I was just a kid, man.’

‘Oh no, you got the; I’m flattered but no –speech? I bet he said you were great!’

Daryl laughs and shoves his boyfriend’s shoulder. ‘He did!’

‘Ahw, poor baby boy,’ Taiwo sniggers as he claims another quick hug. ‘Does he still live at Hilltop?’

‘Yeah, we’re friends and-‘

‘It’s Jesus, isn’t it?’

Daryl blinks.

‘I _knew_ it!’

‘How does everyone just _know_?’ Daryl cries out. ‘It was ages ago, dude!’

‘Yeah, keep telling yourself that. Kidding,’ Taiwo snorts when his boyfriend glares at him. ‘You two just give the most mixed vibes I’ve ever seen between two people, man. He’s not your brother or guardian, he’s not just any guy either.’ Taiwo’s smile turns into a smirk. ‘And he didn’t like it when we started to hang out.’

‘Oh, you noticed the death-glare, huh?’ Daryl says. ‘Yeah, we’re… complicated, I mean -we _were_ complicated but we’re friends now. He’s dating Alex, the nurse of Hilltop. Seems pretty happy.’

‘Good, because I don’t share.’

‘Me neither,’ Daryl says. He grabs hold of Taiwo’s jacket and yanks him close, kissing him deeply. The feeling no longer strange or surreal, but instead a mess of comfort and arousal, familiarity and warmth. He used to complain that Carl and Enid would sneak away for long periods of time, leaving him bored and by himself. He understands it now. He could do this all day and night.

After a couple of minutes, he pulls away. ‘Okay, kick me off this tower now, or we’ll never fuckin’ leave, man.’

It surprises Taiwo that Daryl has never been on a zip-line before. Not at a theme-park, not on holiday, not in some random park somewhere. Daryl doesn’t tell him he’s never been to any of those places. It doesn’t really matter anyway. The technique is literally; hold on or fall to your death.

The line runs from the tallest building to a smaller one in the distance. Over rooftops, over streets and alleyways. It seems a ridiculous way of going down and he’s pretty sure that if he’d been with Rick, Merle or Maggie that he’d be walking down those thousand steps right now.

They’re not here to tell him it’s a stupid idea.

‘Okay,’ Daryl says as he grips the lanyard. ‘So, just let myself fall, and let go at the end. Okay. Yeah. That’s – I can do that.’

‘Of course you can. Take your time. It’s scary the first time.’

‘Yeah, normally I’d say I ain’t scared of nothing, but we’re jumping from a goddamn building,’ Daryl mutters as he looks down at the streets below him. He takes a deep breath and carefully sits down on the railing, slowly turning around and putting his legs on the other side. ‘Don’t you dare fucking push me.’

‘I won’t,’ Taiwo promises. ‘I’ll be right behind you.’

‘Not too close. I don’t want the wire to snap because of your heavy ass.’

‘You’re obsessed with my ass.’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl mutters as he changes his grip on the lanyard. ‘Okay, I’m going. Like – now. I’m going now. Wait. Okay.’ He shifts and laughs nervously. ‘Okay – for real _now_.’

He pushes himself away from the fire escape and zips through the air. The trolley above him makes a soft zooming noise he can barely hear above the howling of the cold winter air. His own excited laughter blends with the noise of the wind. He barely has enough time to enjoy the view; the whole city before him, below him, flashing by. He counts the roofs he passes so he can anticipate the stop.

He sees it coming. A low building and a big, white X marked on the wall the zip-line is attached to. He takes a deep breath and let’s go when he reaches it. Momentum causes him to fall forward and training has him rolling with the impact, Rosita’s lessons coming in handy to save his knees.

He jumps to his feet quickly, heart pounding in his ears, and presses himself against the wall.

Taiwo lands next to him and rolls too before scrambling to his feet and stumbling towards his boyfriend. ‘Are you okay? The landing is kinda rough – did you hurt you-‘

Daryl grabs him and kisses him, pinning the other boy to the wall and pressing himself against him. Adrenaline roaring in his veins, his mind still spinning, kissed breathlessly. ‘I’m fine,’ he says between kisses. ‘I’m _great_.’

 

 

They visit a music store that Taiwo has been systematically plundering over the past months. The sections of R&B and Jazz have been cleared out already, but now he takes a couple of country records along with some soul albums. Daryl wanders through the store aimlessly while keeping an eye out for walkers. He offers to carry some of the records in his backpack but Taiwo dismisses the offer.

‘Is there any place you want to visit before we head back?’

Daryl shrugs. ‘I dunno… Are there any schools around? People been asking me for school supplies.’

‘What do they need – school books, or stuff like pens and paper?’

‘Books, mostly. The Kingdom’s school is up ‘nd running, but Oceanside needs some. I think Hilltop could use some, too.’

‘Okay, there’s a place nearby, we can check it out.’

‘Thanks,’ Daryl grins shyly before following the other boy out of the music store. They chat about music and movies they remember from before. About videogames and books they had to read for English class. Taiwo used to love Halloween and Daryl did too. Daryl liked Christmas even more. Taiwo didn’t celebrate that, he tells stories about a large family gathering at his house, songs and dance and great food. Daryl talks about how Merle and him once scraped enough money together to get him a birthday cake which they ate before Will got home from work.

‘What – like a red velvet one?’

‘The fuck’s that?’

Taiwo stops dead in his tracks. ‘You don’t know what red velvet is?’

‘I don’t think so,’ Daryl mutters as he rubs at his nose. ‘Was it one of those frozen cakes in the discount section – the cheap as fuck ones? ‘cause that’s all I know, man.’

‘Not really,’ Taiwo says. ‘I mean –I don’t know. It doesn’t matter anymore. ‘

‘Guess not.’

‘Our mom once tried to bake us a-‘ Taiwo falls silent just when Daryl wants to shush him. They both freeze. Dark and light eyes scan the street.

 ‘There. Go there.’ Taiwo points at a supermarket on their right. The windows have been smashed a long time ago. All the shelves are empty, the cash registers are gone. A walker rots in a corner, just a heap of bones and molding skin now.

Daryl slips into the building silently. Taiwo follows. They press themselves against the wall.

Footsteps. Boots on concrete.

‘Xidachane?’ Taiwo whispers.

‘Ain’t no walkers,’ Daryl says softly. ‘Your people?’

‘I don’t think so.’

They wait with baited breath. The footsteps come closer. It’s more than one person, Daryl realizes. His hand goes for his gun. He carefully takes it out and flips the safety off.

Taiwo glances down at it. ‘Wait.’

‘Yeah.’

The footsteps pass the supermarket. Taiwo takes a deep breath and leans forward to peek around the corner. His fingertips linger on Daryl’s sleeve. He looks back at his boyfriend. ‘Stay behind me, okay?’

‘Who is it?’

Taiwo nods at the street and walks out of the supermarket, one hand on the handle of his dao.

Daryl curses under his breath but darts out of the building as well. There are four people about half a block away from them. They carry spears and long knives. Their clothes are all black, faces hidden behind dark scarves. He can tell that three of them are women. One of them saunters forward, a wicked-looking knife spinning on the palm of her hand.

‘Maryland avenue,’ Taiwo says by way of greeting. ‘A herd.’

The woman cocks her head to the side and grips her knife. She points down the street with it. ‘Clear.’

‘Safe passage?’

She looks at her knife. The blade is rusty. The grip discolored by sweat. A well-used weapon, though not much loved. She moves slowly forward, steps like a dancer, smooth, almost gliding towards the two teenagers. ‘Let’s play a game first,’ she says. ‘I have a riddle for you.’

‘I don’t have time to play,’ Taiwo says. ‘Mason is expecting us back.’

‘A guard walks over a wall,’ the woman says. ‘It’s midnight but there’s no moon. It’s cold. The wind howls like wolves. A quiet night. He walks and walks and walks.’ She takes the knife and lets the tip press against Taiwo’s chest, right above his heart. ‘Why is he dead in the morning?’

‘Dead?’ Taiwo asks. ‘Someone on your wall died? How?’

‘Stab. Stab. Stab,’ she lightly presses the knife into his jacket.

‘Bullet in the head would’ve been easier,’ Daryl growls as he lifts the gun to aim at her head. ‘Get the fuck back.’

The woman glances at him but looks bored.

‘Lower it, Daryl,’ Taiwo orders. He frowns at the woman, ‘someone stabbed him. And there’s no way it was one of your own?’

She scoffs.

‘It wasn’t us. Mason wouldn’t jeopardies the truce, you know that,’ Taiwo urges. He reaches out and pushes Daryl’s arm down so the gun points at the asphalt.

‘Walkers don’t carry knives. Careful, sewer rat,’ the woman says with a small smile. ‘Best get back into your little hole before it gets dark. Who knows what might happen. Safe passage, for now. The truce holds.’

‘The truce holds,’ Taiwo echoes before he grabs Daryl’s shoulder and tugs him backwards. After a couple of steps, he turns and starts to run.

Daryl follows.

 

 

Daryl sits on the platform with his hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea. This time it’s a grimy drab, made by some guy in the kitchens who’d looked like he didn’t want to be there. High above them, he can see flashes of Mason as the leader paces up and down his room. Taiwo, Amaka and several others have gathered inside.

‘That looks like poison,’ Vera says as she sits down next to him and peers into his cup. She turns half-way to the kitchen. ‘Hey asshole! How about some effort? And stop poisoning Taiwo’s boo or he’ll skin you alive.’

‘It ain’t that bad,’ Daryl mutters.

‘Die then, I don’t really care.’ Her legs swing back and forth. ‘What’s going on?’

‘We ran into another group. One of theirs got killed. They’re having a meeting about it.’ Daryl takes a sip and grimaces at the taste. ‘They kicked me out.’

‘Oh. Whatever. Hey – that question limit you got… does it apply to me?’

‘Only if you get on my nerves,’ Daryl says. ‘’s up?’

Vera glances over her shoulder and scoots closer to him.

Daryl narrows his eyes.

‘You said that the Kingdom has a hospital,’ Vera says, her voice softer. ‘Right?’

‘Yeah.’

‘What kind of doctors do they have?’

Daryl takes another sip. ‘What do you mean?’

Vera fidgets with the zipper of her jacket. ‘You know Hakeem doesn’t talk, right? But he used to. Before. So he _can_ talk. There’s nothing wrong with his throat or anything, and sometimes he tries but… he just can’t.’ She glances at Daryl. ‘I’ve never heard his voice. Maybe there’s some doctor at your place who knows about shit like that? We tried to find books and stuff, but… it didn’t help.’

‘I can ask around,’ Daryl says. ‘Does he know you’re asking me this?’

Vera rolls her eyes. ‘No. He pretends it doesn’t bother him. We made up our own language and he’s got his notepad and everything, so he gets by. It’s not about that. Don’t tell him I asked you about it though. He went ballistic when he found the self-help books.’

‘I won’t tell him.’

‘You better not, or I’ll poison you for real when I have a shift in the kitchens again.’ She knocks their shoulders together.

‘You’re getting on my nerves. Questions are up.’

‘You’re an asshole.’

‘Your tea doesn’t taste much better than this.’

She hits him.

He laughs.

 

 

It’s so cold that the wind hurts his face as he climbs up the tower. He gets to the platform and sees Taiwo standing there in the dark. There’s a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He barely glances over his shoulder before relaxing again.

The whole city is silent. Daryl can’t hear any walkers, no animals, nothing moving in the dark. The stars shine brightly above them. He wonders how many city-slickers only saw them because of the outbreak. Maybe one good thing came out of all of this then.

‘You should go back down,’ Taiwo whispers when Daryl reaches him. ‘It’s cold. You don’t have to keep me company.’

Daryl takes the blanket and drapes it over his own shoulders. He steps up behind his boyfriend, head on his broad shoulder, hugging him tightly and wrapping the blanket around them both. ‘I know,’ he whispers back. ‘I will anyway. Who knows what might happen, huh?’

Taiwo shivers. ‘Are you trying to freak me out?’

‘No,’ Daryl smiles and presses a kiss against his neck. ‘I’ve got you.’

Taiwo hums and leans back against him.

‘There’ll be a festival,’ Daryl says, ‘when the first harvest comes in after winter. It’ll be held at Alexandria. Rick’s talkin’ about inviting Mason.’

‘I’ll let him know.’

‘Yeah.’ Daryl nudges Taiwo’s shoulder with his nose. ‘Maybe… maybe you could come. In spring.’

Taiwo sighs. ‘You don’t have to do this. I told you: I get it.’

Daryl closes his eyes. He swallows what he wanted to say. ‘Okay,’ he whispers instead. ‘Sorry.’

 

 

 


	35. Cold showers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The schedule is whack, I know, sorry. Hoping to go back to Friday updates after this but my holiday is coming up and I'm really, really excited so if I miss an upload again; PUHLEASE don't scream at me on Tumblr. My poor little heart.
> 
>  
> 
> Additional chapter warning for needless fluff and smut (kinda. I think.).

 

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The radio has been placed in Mason’s office. Daryl is sitting behind the desk, his eyes on the needles and switches, the single green light that indicates that it’s on. Soft voices are coming from the speakers. He’s getting better at identifying them. The guards who are at the edge of the Kingdom’s territory confer with the guards of Washington to make sure they don’t wander into restricted neighborhoods. Every once in a while, he hears Aaron’s voice and Rosita’s curt answers.

They’re at the wild river that’s between Alexandria and Hilltop Colony. Despite the cold, the first models of the mills are being tested. From the radio chatter, he knows there are a couple walkers Aaron will take care of but nothing more.

Daryl sighs and leans on the desk, arms folded beneath his chin. He listens to the conversations and hopes to hear Maggie or Merle’s voice. The corner of his mouth curls upward when Rosita makes a snarky comment.

‘What are you doing here?’

Daryl looks up. Mason is standing in the doorway, one hand on his new gun. He’s carrying a mug. It smells like coffee.

‘Sorry,’ Daryl mutters but he doesn’t get up. ‘I was looking for Amaka and saw the radio.’

‘Where’s Taiwo?’

‘Delivering something to another station.’

Someone had come up to them at breakfast. One of the runners had gotten ill the other day, a message needed to be delivered quickly, maybe Taiwo could do it? At first his boyfriend had looked pained. Daryl’s not allowed to visit the other stations yet or even know their locations. It’s his sixth day at Washington and he has spent all of them glued to Taiwo’s side. Maybe a half-day break would be good, he’d joked.

It had been weird to watch Taiwo run off into the darkness of the tunnels with a package under his arm, leaving him all alone on the platform. Felix, Vera and Hakeem were at their jobs. Amaka had disappeared before breakfast with a couple of her fellow soldiers.

Mason puts the mug on the table before walking over to the make-shift hearth in the corner of the room. He lights a fire easily. ‘I see,’ he mutters as he watches the flames.

‘I didn’t snoop.’

Mason glances at the maps that are on the table and sees that they’re untouched. He stands up and watches the teenager.

Daryl listens to the soft static of the radio.

‘Are you worried about your family?’

‘No. They know I’m here. I’d know if something went down some place.’

Mason makes a thoughtful noise. He grabs a chair and drags it towards the desk. Arms folded, one ankle resting on his knee, eyes narrowed as they study him. A small, knowing smile makes his face softer. ‘Are you home-sick?’

‘No.’

‘I noticed you had a radio on your backpack when you came here on the first day. Have you used it?’

Daryl shrugs. ‘I let Merle – my brother, know I’d arrived safely.’ He bites on his lip. ‘Runs on batteries, right? Shouldn’t waste it.’ The blue eyes suddenly widen. ‘But I ain’t home-sick!’

Mason laughs softly and shakes his head. He pushes himself up from the chair and grabs the hand-held radio from the charger. Before Daryl can say anything, he pushes the button down. ‘D.C. for Hilltop, over?’

It doesn’t take long for Kal to answer. Daryl can picture him sitting in the big conference room, bowed over some maps while he plans out the next couple of patrols. Maybe Merle is even there to help him, his brother often leads small groups when they go outside of the walls.

‘Hilltop for D.C.,’ Kal says, voice thin over the line. ‘Problems? Over.’

No problems, Mason assures him, before ordering the guard to find Maggie and raise D.C over a private channel. He puts the radio down in front of Daryl and sits at his own large table to study his own maps.

Daryl chews on his fingernail. ‘Thanks,’ he says, voice so soft that he almost hopes Mason doesn’t hear him.

‘Next time, just ask. You looked like a kicked puppy listening to your people like that. There’s no need.’

‘Ain’t ever been home-sick before,’ Daryl admits. It’s easy because Mason isn’t looking at him. ‘Well – once, but that was different. I couldn’t go home, had to stay some place bad. This ain’t like that.’

‘No school trips or sleep-overs at someone’s place before all of this?’

‘Never been.’

Mason turns in his seat. A frown mars his face. ‘What about your home? You’ve never missed that?’

‘No.’ Daryl rubs at his nose. ‘My dad was with me when it all went down. And when he weren’t anymore… I don’t know. Home weren’t a place no more, you know? It’s Maggie ‘nd Merle, Beth ‘nd Kiss. Rick, Michonne, Carl ‘nd Judy. Aaron, Rosita, Tara. All of ‘em.’

Mason nods his understanding. ‘It must be hard for you that they’re not all in the same place anymore.’

‘Don’t like it,’ Daryl admits, ‘but I understand why everyone is where they are. We’ve just been together for so long, it don’t feel as safe now as it did at the prison, or Alexandria before the war. I guess it’ll take a while to get used to.’

The radio crackles and it doesn’t take long for Maggie’s voice to come through. She sounds out of breath. There’s an edge of panic in her voice. ‘Mason? What’s wrong? Did something happen to Dare? Radio Ezekiel, he’ll send a doctor and-‘

Daryl quickly picks up the radio. ‘It’s me. I’m right here. I’m fine, Maggie. Nothing happened.’

‘Oh, thank God. I thought –‘ Daryl can hear the door bursting open. ‘He’s fine! He’s fine, nothing happened,’ Maggie says in a soothing tone of voice. There’s the sound of one of the heavy chairs being dragged away from the table. She’s probably sitting down.

‘Why’s he calling?’ It’s muffled but still easy to recognize as Merle’s voice.

‘I don’t know, but I’ll find out, catch your breath,’ Maggie laughs. ‘Sorry, Dare. Merle’s here, too. Go ahead.’

Daryl rubs his fingertips over the woodgrains of the desk. ‘Erm, well – just – ya know? I’m gonna go back in a couple of days, so… do y’all, like – need… stuff?’

There’s a short silence.

‘There’s nothing we need, Dare,’ Maggie assures him. ‘Be sure to radio us when you leave and get to the Kingdom, okay? Are you stopping at Alexandria?’

‘Probably. Almost froze my balls off gettin’ here. Stay at Rick one night, see Carl some, then I’ll come home.’

‘Okay. Be careful.’

He nods even though she can’t see him. ‘Okay…’

Another silence.

‘Dare? Wait,’ Maggie sounds confused, ‘Merle wants to talk to you.’

Static, and then his brother comes on. ‘Monster, listen to this bullshit story, hmm? Girl out in the extension you taught how to shoot? Bow got fucked up, right, so old Merle here offered to be nice and fix it right up. Just being a good neighbor. Some snifflin’ ‘lil city slicker comes rollin’ up, thinkin’ he’s the bee’s knees, eh? He says - ya know what this asshole says to old Merle now?’

Daryl sniggers even though he has no idea where the story is going, ‘nah, bro, what did he say?’ and stifles his laughter when Merle continues the story. It’s wild. Half of it probably never happened. ‘Why’re you always gettin’ into trouble when I’m not around?’ he chuckles when his brother stops and sulks on the other end of the line.

‘Ain’t nobody here to set a good example for now.’

‘What about Kiss!’

‘Ahw,’ Merle dismisses, ‘lost cause. Almost crawled into the fire place the other night, you can’t save that kind of people from the-‘

‘That’s my son you’re talking about,’ Maggie objects. It sounds like she hits Merle on the arm. ‘And you kept pretending to eat the hot coals, of course he’ll want some too!’

‘Bull, I didn’t do nothing,’ Merle laughs. ‘Get off me, woman, I’m talkin’ to my brother.’

‘That’s my son, too,’ Maggie says, voice light with laughter. ‘Stop corrupting him!’

‘Stop hoggin’ him! I don’t even have the time to corrupt him properly. He’s like some Dixon –Rhee –Grimes abomination. ‘s disgusting.’ Another slap. ‘Kiddin’. I’m kiddin’. Y’all did a fine job. Hey, monster?’

‘Hmm?’ Daryl hums, amused.

‘Feeling better now? Beth’s outside with that demon of yours, Enid ‘nd Jesus went to help with the watermill, so she’s probably sucking Carl behind some bushes and lettin’ our Lord and Savior do all the hard work.’

Daryl groans and glances at Mason, who’s pretending not to listen in on the conversation. ‘Don’t, man.’

‘Stop being a pussy about those things or you’ll never find someone to-‘

Static. ‘Enough,’ Maggie says when she comes on again. ‘Are you sure you’re okay, Dare?’

‘Yeah. I was… I’m feeling better now. Give Kiss a kiss from me, ‘kay? And tell Beth to sneak Khamsin a treat without Dante seein’ it.’

‘He won’t let her have treats?’ Maggie sounds amused.

‘Nah, that way she’ll get two, he’s always sneakin’ her some. I gotta go…. Erm… Okay. Bye.’

‘We love you, Dare. Be careful on the way back and enjoy the last couple of days at D.C.!’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ he glances at Mason again. ‘I love you, too,’ he adds quickly before ending the transmission and putting the radio back. For a moment he stays seated at the desk. Then he gets up, grabs his backpack and bow and clears his throat. ‘I’ll clear out. Thanks for… thanks.’

‘You’re welcome, Daryl.’

He heads over to the door but hesitates on the threshold. ‘Would it be okay if I went into the city? I’d like to go hunting – maybe check out some schools nearby. Taiwo said some of them haven’t been looted and we’re short on school supplies at Hilltop.’

‘If you take someone with you, it won’t be a problem.’

‘Sure,’ Daryl nods. ‘Thanks again.’

He searches for Amaka, Felix, Vera or Hakeem but can’t find them. One of the ladies tells him that Amaka has just come back from her duties and is down the train with some of her girlfriends, getting her hair braided. It’ll take a while, they laugh when he rolls his eyes. The rest of his friends are still at work. Taiwo hasn’t returned yet.

The guards by the big doors eye him warily. They don’t ask any questions, just open it up and close it behind him. He heads up the long staircase and blinks against the light. It’s gray out, not particularly sunny and still cold. It has snowed overnight. The sound of it crunching beneath his boots still makes him smile.

‘Where are you going?’ one of the guards asks with a frown when he motions for the gates to be opened.

‘Out,’ Daryl says. ‘Cleared it with Mason. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.’

The guards look doubtful but shrug and open the gates.

 

 

It almost feels strange to scavenge again. They’re now so focused on living from the land that it’s been a while since he’s been out to rummage through cupboards and crawlspaces. Their runs now mostly consist of hitting big malls located on the edge of cities, or any place where gasoline might have been stored. Most of it has gone bad inside the tanks, but sometime they still hit a goldmine. It’s what keeps his bike and most of the cars running.

Now, he hops into houses that draw his attention. He pokes around, inspects bedrooms, bathrooms and kitchens. There’s usually not much to be found in living rooms. He finds dumb stuff people are always asking for somehow. Hair ties. Hard candy. Condoms, tampons and pads. Strips of painkillers that Beth will have to take a look at to determine whether they’re still good.

Most things he will hand in at one of the communities so it can distributed among the people but some he uses to trade with. For cigarettes, mostly. There’s not much else he needs to pay for. Sometimes he will sneak Jayla some trade to make her life a little easier and Carl has been haggling him for stuff lately too. Condoms, mostly. Something nice to surprise Enid with. Rick won’t let him outside much these days, insists that his job is inside their community, and Daryl doesn’t mind helping his brother out.

He misses scavenging with Carl though. Abraham used to joke that they’d gotten their sex-ed by going through the houses and finding the stuff that’s hidden in closets and drawers, or sometimes shamelessly displayed in bedrooms. He’d once dragged them out of a house by their ears, the two of them giggling and red in the face, after finding a dildo stuck to a bathroom door. Carl had teased him mercilessly for days after he’d sheepishly asked Rick what the restraints on a bed were for.

Nothing bothers him anymore these days, but he misses the moments of dumb fun. There’s not much room for that anymore. Carl has a responsibility at Alexandria, he at Hilltop and every other community. Their comics haven’t been touched in months now. He’s given some to Henry at the Kingdom in the hopes he gets to be a kid for a while longer because of them.

There are walkers, but not enough to frighten him. Most are slow, locked inside of houses and too thin and brittle to do more than crawl towards him. He ends most with his knife, smashes the skull of another under the heel of his boot and grimaces at the brain matter spattering everywhere.

He finds batteries and razors. Face wash and deodorant, soap someone had bought in bulk. More condoms in a bathroom, hidden behind the toilet rolls that are rotting away. He rummages through the cupboard some more and finds something that makes him pause for a second. Lube.

If Carl had been here, the bottle would have been ripped out of his hands, one lewd joke after another until his ears would burn and then the joke would have been about that. Now, he has time to turn the bottle around and read the fading lettering on the back. He doesn’t understand anything about the list of ingredients but the instructions are clear enough. The tips of his ears burn. He bites on his lip and glances left and right. It’s stupid, he’s completely alone in a random bathroom but he still feels the need to be secretive as he slings his backpack off his shoulders. The bottle disappears into the little compartment on the side. The one that holds more bullets, the keys to his bike, and his second package of cigarettes.

His own stash.

After that, he slowly makes his way back. He walks through backyards, kicks a football long deflated, mourns the couple of bones left in a doghouse. Wooden tables and chairs have collapsed, but he takes a break on a metal bench in the back of one of the yards and pretends he used to live in the small house that’s now missing a back door. He smokes a cigarette, eats some jerky. The grass is tall enough to touch his thighs but withering in the cold now.

The guards seem relieved when he makes it back before dark. One of them spits into the snow and glares at him.

‘You’re a right asshole, you know that?’

Daryl narrows his eyes. ‘Why’s that?’

‘Just fuck off,’ the man grunts before climbing up the ladder again to stand on guard.

His friend makes to follow him but hangs from the third rung for a second, looking down at the teenager. ‘I don’t know how everyone does it out there, but here? It’s best not to piss us or Mason off, and getting us in trouble like that? That pisses us off.’ He rolls his eyes when Daryl doesn’t seem to get the point. ‘You told us you’d cleared it with Mason, man. Mason does rounds, checks the books, we write down everyone who comes and goes.’ He raises an eyebrow, ‘didn’t you know, newbie?’

‘Nah,’ Daryl wipes his nose on the back of his hand, ‘didn’t know.’

‘He sure was surprised to see Alexandria’s golden boy had left by himself, after he’d told him to find someone to watch his back out there.’

‘Yeah… Couldn’t find anyone.’

‘ _Didn’t really try_ ,’ the guard says while mimicking the bored tone of voice of the teenager. ‘Yeah, we noticed. Our shift got extended by two hours. It’s fucking cold. So thank you so much, asshole. This isn’t Alexandria, or Hilltop, or the Kingdom. Here, you actually need to follow the rules.’

Daryl bites back how he follows the rules at those places too just in time, because he doesn’t. Not really. The rations are the only rules he follows, though people still sneak him food from time to time. It doesn’t bother him because most of it he passes on to other kids or people with harder jobs. He never sticks to curfew even though it drives Maggie up the wall, goes hunting whenever he pleases to escape Alexandria when it all gets too much, and only does chores at the Kingdom because he wants to help out, not because they’re mandatory. Replenish the well doesn’t even apply to him because Ezekiel insists he has done enough.

‘I can take the rest of your shift, and your friend’s shift tomorrow, to make up for it. And I’ll tell Mason what I did - that ain’t on you. I’m real sorry.’

The guard looks surprised for a moment. ‘Just don’t do it again.’ He hesitates, ‘and if you could tell Mason, that’d be… good.’

‘Of course. I didn’t know he’d check, man. Sorry,’ he ducks his head and heads inside.

Mason appreciates him stopping by and clearing up the situations with his guards. They’re usually not that careless, he says, but the rules surrounding strangers aren’t very clear. What is clear to Daryl is that Mason doesn’t particularly care whether he gets torn to pieces or not. He’d just hate to make that radio call to Hilltop, Alexandria, Oceanside and the Kingdom and face the consequences. Daryl makes a joke about how Rick knows he’s always sneaking out and wouldn’t blame Mason. The leader doesn’t look as sure.

The guards will be relieved at their usual time and Daryl makes his way to the shower stalls with a smile on his face. It’s late and most of the workers have already taken a shower, but he doesn’t mind that there’s probably no hot water left. There are lockers on the side and by now he knows which one is Taiwo’s. He stuffs his backpack, weapons and jacket in there.

There’s dried blood on his hands and forearms, dust and soot on his cheeks from going through the abandoned houses. A streak of something he doesn’t even want to identify on his neck, somehow.

There’s a woman working near the tubs, scrubbing clothes clean and hanging them up to dry. Blonde hair in a high ponytail, flyaways framing her young face. There’s a scar running from her wrist up to her shoulder, ugly and ragged. She’d been in a car crash when the outbreak happened, her skin mangled by metal and torn up as she crawled out of the wreckage.

Daryl knows the story because he has helped her scrub sheets clean, the big cloths heavy and taking a toll on the girl after a long day. ‘Afternoon, m’am. Can I help?’

She shakes her head. ‘I’m finishing up for the day, Luca helped me with the heavy things already.’

‘You replaced me?’ Daryl asks, pretending to clutch his heart before grabbing a towel from a pile. ‘That hurts.’

‘You’ll get over it,’ she says but a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. ‘Your boyfriend was looking for you by the way.’

‘Oh, he’s back?’

‘Safe and sound.’

‘Good,’ Daryl beams, a weight he hadn’t realized was there falling off his shoulders. ‘I’ll find him later. Do you mind if I wash this shit off real quick?’

‘Go right ahead.’ She gathers her things and stores the detergent away for tomorrow. ‘Hang your towel out to dry when you’re done. I’m done for the day.’

He flashes her a grin and a thumbs-up before slipping into one of the tiny shower stalls. There’s no actual shower. Instead, there’s a large tub of clean, cold water and a small bucket. A drain near his feet. He puts his shirt on the little hook, dips his rag into the water and shiver when it touches his skin. It’s cold.

He uses soap while cursing under his breath about his nipples freezing off. Twice a day the water gets heated, mostly for the kids and elderly though everyone can use it. Daryl hasn’t once. He’s used to taking dips in creeks and doesn’t mind the cold much. Beth used to joke about how it makes him hurry up at least.

The shirt sticks to his slightly damp skin as he opens the door again. It’s still hanging open, revealing his broad chest and toned stomach, his necklaces coming to rest upon his breastbone.

‘Err….’

He almost drops his soap, cursing again as his head snaps up.

Taiwo is staring at his chest. He first folds his hand across his mouth, then under his chin before trying for casual by running it through his hair. He gives up with a sigh. ‘Back in there, now,’ he says, pushing his boyfriend into the stall and kicking the door closed behind them.

‘What the hell? What did I-‘ Daryl groans into the kiss he gets. He throws the soap aside and loops his arms around his boyfriend’s neck. There are hands resting on his hips, always finding their spot on top of his belt and jeans, curling around his hips. He’s pinned against the wall but doesn’t mind at all. One of Taiwo’s legs between his, creating friction that drives him mad. Not for the first time, he wishes that Taiwo would move his hands to his skin, pushing up under the shirt, but he’s not sure how to ask. He wants to do the same thing too, hands slipping beneath that warm hoodie to touch even warmer skin but isn’t sure whether he can.

‘Hey,’ Taiwo laughs when he pulls back. ‘You’re back.’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl grins. ‘So are you!’

Taiwo kisses a kiss to the tip of Daryl’s nose. ‘Idiot. Hey. Sorry, you just looked so hot, I-‘

‘Ssh,’ Daryl’s hand shoots up and covers his boyfriend’s mouth. There are footsteps coming up the stairs. They pass the stalls. ‘Shut up,’ the Dixon hisses but Taiwo isn’t saying anything. He’s just laughing silently behind the hand. ‘Stop, shit. Who is it? Shush!’

Taiwo moans sensually before giggling again.

Daryl squeezes his cheeks, ‘stop! You asshole, what – _ssh_!’

The footsteps come back. They head downstairs again and disappear.

‘Good lord.’ The hand falls away. Daryl lets his head bang against the wall repeatedly. ‘I hate you. What if they caught us?’

‘Doing what? Kissing in a shower stall with our clothes on?’

Daryl closes his eyes and shakes his head. ‘I hate you.’

‘Really?’ Taiwo leans in and kisses him on the cheek. ‘You hate me?’ he whispers into his skin before kissing his jaw and neck. ‘How much?’

‘A lot,’ Daryl groans.

‘Oh no,’ Taiwo grins before licking a stripe up Daryl’s neck and watching him shiver, ‘how can I make it up to you?’

The Dixon puts his hands on his boyfriend’s hips and pushes him back gently. He opens his eyes, bites on his lip and then asks, ‘want to go back to my room some? I don’t mean – ain’t about you makin’ up or nothing, just… I don’t know, never mind, let’s go grab-‘

‘Yeah, sure,’ Taiwo interrupts, pecking him on the lips. ‘Let’s go hang out in your room. You have to tell me where you’ve been. Amaka said you were getting the guards in trouble.’ He grins and reaches for the door.

‘What the fuck,’ Daryl bats his hand away. ‘we can’t go out at the same time, what if someone sees?’

‘God forbid,’ Taiwo nods.

‘I’m serious.’ Daryl stomps his shoulder. ‘I’ll go down first and -’

‘I’d like that.’

‘-and you can head down later.’

‘You want me to wait here by myself so nobody sees us stepping out of the same stall, while everyone is having dinner or doing more important things than spying on two teenagers. Got it. Makes sense. Sounds like a great plan that I’ll definitely stick to. You can count on me, man.’

 Daryl glares.

‘You mean it, I know,’ Taiwo laughs. ‘It’s kinda sad, but we’ll work on it.’

 

 

A minute later, Daryl freezes on the last step of the stairs.

Amaka is leaning against a pillar, shoveling some stew into her mouth. Big, brown eyes glint with mischief as she watches her brother’s boyfriend turn into a deer in headlights. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. ‘Hello, Daryl. Good evening.’

Daryl grabs hold of the band of his bow. ‘Hi.’

‘My brother went up those stairs ten minutes ago, looking for you. I came looking for him a couple of minutes later but couldn’t find him.’ Her grin is wicked. ‘Any ideas where he might be?’

‘No.’

‘No?’

Daryl feels his ears burn. ‘No, I heard he was back from the run but I don’t-‘. He groans when the door of his shower stall opens and Taiwo steps out. The boy turns to the mirror and fixes his wild hair. ‘- I don’t know your brother. I don’t know anyone like that, never seen him before but he sounds like an asshole!’

Amaka sniggers into her bowl. ‘Hey TaiTai.’

‘Hey Maki!’ Taiwo slides down the banister and lands beside his twin, immediately trying to grab the spoon and claim a bite of food. ‘What’s up?’

‘Nothing, just embarrassing your boyfriend.’

‘That’s my job!’

‘Stop eating my food, little one.’

‘Little one? I was born first!’

Daryl rolls his eyes. He tiptoes past them and heads to his room with red cheeks. Their bickering follows him all the way down the hall and second set of stairs. It disappears when he closes the door of his room behind him.

His dirty laundry is littering the floor. His bed isn’t made.

‘Fuck.’ He puts his bow on the desk and gun in the drawer of his nightstand before darting around the room. Dirty laundry is shoved into the closet, he tries to make his bed like how Carol had taught him at the prison. Scrunched up pieces of paper are kicked under the bed, drawings that hadn’t quite worked out how he’d wanted. Other sketches get shoved into the drawer of the desk.

Felix, hanging upside down from the bed to annoy Hakeem. A sketch of Amaka sitting near the fire. Vera flicking him off, Mason standing on the landing and overlooking his community like he does every morning. Taiwo with a record in his hands. Taiwo wielding that wicked-looking dao with frightening precision. Taiwo asleep, curled up and hugging a pillow. Portraits, half of Taiwo’s face on one side, Amaka’s on the other, making it perfectly clear that they’re twins.

Daryl’s sitting on the edge of the bed, nervously pulling at his fingers, when Taiwo finally comes in. He’s carrying two bowls of stew.

‘Thought you might be hungry. I’m kind of hungry.’ He puts the bowls on the desk and unties his boots, kicks them in a corner. Then he carefully crawls onto the bed and hands Daryl his food before settling against the cushions. He hums as he takes a bite. ‘I stole some from Amaka already, it’s really good.’

‘Thanks.’

It’s easy not to be nervous when Taiwo starts telling a story about what happened at the other location. He heard it from one of the guards and doesn’t know whether it’s true, but it’s funny anyway. Daryl relaxes beside him and tells about his trip through the city, all the little treasures he has found and decided to keep.

An hour later, Daryl is on his side while he watches how Taiwo tries to draw constellations in the air.

‘Something like that, right? With a flick at the end. Pow!’

Daryl grins. ‘Something like that, sure.’

Taiwo gives him a smug look. ‘See? I told you I knew what Pegasus looks like.’

‘You drew Auriga, probably by accident, but that’s okay.’

‘ _What_? No way, I did the flick! See?’ he does it again with his finger, ‘pow! That’s… No – stop laughing! Stop trying to hug me! I’m serious. The Pow! Flick! That’s part of Pegasus’s tail.’

‘You’re cute,’ Daryl laughs while dragging his boyfriend closer and hugging him. ‘I’ll show you the difference one night.’ He throws one leg over Taiwo’s to stop his squirming. It works. Daryl smirks at his boyfriend but it fades when he sees Taiwo’s blown pupils.

He leans down and touches their noses together.

Taiwo leans up for a kiss, making a soft noise when Daryl stays just out of reach.

They look at each other for a long time, nose to nose and breath mixing between them. He can smell the sweetness of the hard candy Taiwo ate earlier, the product he puts in his hair. He has a small scar just above his left eyebrow and he missed a tiny spot while shaving this morning.

Daryl smiles down at him. He shifts, sits down on Taiwo’s thighs and straightens his spine. Nervous fingers fumble with the buttons on his shirt.

Taiwo watches with dark eyes. The gaze roams over Daryl’s chest as soon as it’s bared. The sharp collarbones, the necklaces, the muscles, the softness of his belly, the trail of hair leading down. He slowly reaches out. Fingertips against the pale skin.

He sits up suddenly, catching Daryl by putting his arm around his back, just a couple of inches smaller now. Noses touch again. Breath mixes. ‘Are you sure?’

Daryl nods. ‘Just this though, but… yeah.’

‘Just this,’ Taiwo agrees before kissing him softly. He makes a pleased sound when the Dixon lets him. He reaches down and pulls his hoodie off, shivering when he feels bare skin against bare skin.

Daryl pushes him back down, looms over him for a second and then puts his hand on Taiwo’s side to feel the warmth of his skin. He lets the hand roam, over his toned stomach and up to his left nipple, fingertips brushing over it.

Taiwo makes a soft noise.

Daryl chews on his own lip for a second. ‘I don’t know-‘

‘It’s called a nipple. You have two as well, see?’ Taiwo reaches up and pinches his.

Daryl bats his hand away and laughs, ‘stop. I mean-‘

‘I know what you mean,’ Taiwo chuckles. ‘Stop worrying so much,’ he says before hooking his leg around Daryl’s and putting a hand on his hip.

A warning flashes through Daryl’s mind, red flags and training sessions, but it’s too late. He’s flipped onto his back in one easy move. He’s kissed breathlessly before muscle memory even kicks in, one hand disappearing into Taiwo’s hair and the other curling around his hip, dragging him even closer instead of pushing him away.

They kiss. Hands wander over flushed skin, legs move restlessly while hips buck to find friction. Their breaths turn into pants. Taiwo kisses his neck, sucks a hickey onto the soft skin there before moving further down. Daryl closes his eyes and lets Taiwo explore his chest. Kisses on his ribs causes him to chuckle but it turns into moans of pleasure when his boyfriend’s teeth graze over his right nipple and lips close around it.

‘Fuck,’ Daryl’s hand traces the muscles in Taiwo’s back, feels them rippling whenever the other boy moves.

‘Fuck yeah,’ Taiwo pants against his skin as he rolls his hips with an edge of desperation. ‘Move your leg –no, just one so I can – _fuck yeah_ ,’ he laughs when Daryl gets it right.

There’s not much talking after that.

Grunts and moans, soft groans smothered in the crooks of their necks.

Another neat roll over and it’s Daryl who gets to kiss a path down Taiwo’s arm first, biting at the muscles and kissing his wrist. Fingertips trace his lips before he surprises his boyfriend by sucking on one finger.

It’s intoxicating. He loves kissing Taiwo, loves feeling hands run over his sides and back, feels his brain short-circuit when the angle of their hips is just right and their erections rub together. It’s sweaty and hot and he wishes it’d never stop.

It does though, with Taiwo arching his back first, groaning low in his throat and then relaxing into the pillows, kisses turning sloppy. Daryl not two minutes later, going still and silent until he breathes out heavily, his arm unable to hold him up anymore so he collapses onto his boyfriend.

Fingers trace lazy circles on his shoulder blades.

‘Stay here,’ Taiwo whispers. ‘Don’t leave.’

Daryl presses a kiss onto his shoulder. ‘Couple more days.’ He feels how Taiwo’s fingers moves over the vicious scars on his back but none of the touches linger. They haven’t bothered him in years, everyone knows he’s riddled with them, but he doubts that Taiwo has ever seen more than just flashes of them creeping out from under his shirt.

They’re on full display now.

He sighs.

‘One more day than the amount of days you were thinking of.’

Daryl laughs. ‘’kay.’

Taiwo grins and hugs him tightly. ‘’kay.’

 

 


	36. Falling

 

* * *

 

 

 

They’re still in bed together. Taiwo is reading a biography about one of his favorite artists. He flips the pages quickly but sometimes needs to pause and figure out a difficult word. He holds the book up with one hand. The other draws lazy circles onto his boyfriend’s back.

Daryl is stretched out on top of him, the blankets pooling at their hips. Everything but their underwear has been thrown into a corner of the room. Taiwo had snuck out to clean himself up and grab his book, but Daryl is glad he came back. He’s also glad they can just do this. There’s no need to entertain each other. He’d finished a couple of rough sketches of Washington at the desk before crawling back into bed while Taiwo settled in to read quietly.

Daryl feels how the fingertips keep running over the raised skin of his scars. He’s glad that the other boy hadn’t paid any kind of particular attention to them when he’d first taken his shirt off. Maybe he’d been too caught up in the moment to realize how many there were. He’s noticing now though.

The flipping of the pages stops.

Fingertips brush over the scar that runs from his shoulder to his ribcage, wrapping around it like vines.

Daryl sighs and closes his eyes. He enjoys the warmth of his boyfriend’s body and the ease between them. He doesn’t want to ruin that but can’t keep quiet either. ‘Do you wanna know how I got them?’ he asks.

‘Truth or polite?’

‘Polite,’ Daryl says with a huff.

‘Only if you want to tell me.’

‘Now the truth.’

Taiwo’s hand comes the rest at Daryl’s nape. He plays with the short hair before running his fingers through it. It’s turning darker again now that he’s no longer out in the sun every single day. The roots are almost black. ‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘I want to know.’

‘Okay.’ Daryl grunts as he crawls over to the empty spot beside his boyfriend. He sits up, legs folded beneath him. Goosebumps appear on his arms. He drags the blanket around his waist so it pools in his lap. ‘So,’ one hand runs over his chest, searching for the right one. Fingertips find the circular scar on his side. ‘Back in the beginning, a girl went missing on the road. I went out to look for her, got thrown off my horse and rolled down a hill. Speared myself with one of my own bolts. Here.’

‘What the hell,’ Taiwo says with a breath of laughter. ‘How old were you back at the beginning?’

‘Twelve.’

‘Holy shit. Baby Daryl!’

‘Yeah. It kinda hurt. Maggie’s dad patched me up even though I stole his horse.’

‘ _Kinda hurt_ ,’ Taiwo echoes, disbelief coloring his voice. ‘Right.’

Daryl nods and looks down at his own chest. ‘Erm,’ he points at a faint one just above his left hip. ‘Got into a fight some place. Weren’t so bad, didn’t even need stitches but it got infected and just healed badly.’

Taiwo hums his understanding. He’s looking at the more obvious scars.

‘Got this one when I fell off my bike before all this,’ Daryl points at one on his arm. ‘I didn’t tell my dad about it so it got infected too.’

‘Why didn’t you tell him you’d fallen?’ A frown marks Taiwo’s face.

‘I just didn’t,’ Daryl shrugs. It had seemed like a good idea at first. He thought that maybe he could tell his boyfriend more about his life by telling about Will and how he’d gotten the scars. Why Glenn had been so important to him, being the first who’d braved his snarling and snapping to patch his back up after one of Will’s lessons, or why he sometimes refers to Shane or Glenn as his dad.

It doesn’t feel like a good idea anymore. The words get stuck in his throat. He’s not ashamed of the scars but still doesn’t like telling the story behind them. The members of his own family sometimes don’t even understand how he still can tell stories about fun times with Will, or why he still wears his parent’s wedding rings as a tribute to them. How is he supposed to explain that Will wasn’t all bad when all Taiwo will know is scar tissue.

‘Oh,’ he drags his foot out from underneath the blanket and shows his calf, ‘Shiva accidentally nicked me once. My foot was blocking the way to a tasty piece of chicken so she moved it for me. She didn’t mean to hurt me though. That’s probably the most exciting one.’ He slides out of the bed and puts his jeans back on. ‘The rest don’t really matter. I gotta take a piss.’

‘Wait – _what_?’

‘Gotta piss,’ Daryl says even though that’s not the part that threw Taiwo off. He stomps his boots on and doesn’t bother lacing them, just grabs his hoodie and slips out of the room before his boyfriend can say anything else. As he wanders over the platform, he curses himself for not grabbing his pack so he’d at least have his cigarettes with him. He sits down on the edge of the platform and puts his hoodie on.

It’s still early in the evening, there are a lot of people around. Nobody pays any special attention to him. After all these days, they’ve finally gotten used to his presence in their community. Conversations no longer die as soon as he joins people at a table, less and less gazes will linger on him when he walks past. The whispers and questions haven’t stopped of course, but it usually comes from the children and he doesn’t mind that.

Some people avoid him, he has noticed. Vera likes to claim it’s because he’s so goddamn ugly and will get chased around by Taiwo for her trouble, but Amaka shrugs it off. People avoid her and Taiwo, too. People who have been hiding behind walls and other people, never pulling out a knife to defend themselves, are scared of the generation that wields swords and crossbows like it’s second nature.

He tries to spot Hakeem or Felix anywhere but can’t find them. Maybe they’re inside the train. Not for the first time, he wishes Maggie was here, or Kiss. His brother with his crude jokes, Beth or Carl. Paul or Rosita. Anyone from his family, really. There’s nobody here he can talk to. Nobody here knows anything about him or his past, so nobody can give any advice about what to say when he heads back to his room.

He kicks his feet. The heels bump against the stone wall. His laces are still undone, metal ends ticking softly against brickwork. It feels strange to not have a single weapon on him. Until now, he’s never left his gun or crossbow behind. The knife always on his hip. It doesn’t feel as unsafe as he thought it would but he’d still feel better with some steel on him.

There’s no point in stalling. He’s going to have to face Taiwo again anyway, he doubts his boyfriend snuck out of the room in the meantime. He’s not sure whether he’d like that better, but he’s also not sure about how to have this conversation. That he changed his mind and won’t tell him the stories after all. _Stop, I don’t want to tell you_ , somehow doesn’t seem like a proper response or explanation.

He should have just ignored it. Taiwo hadn’t been disgusted by them in the first place and his fascination would have faded over time, Daryl’s sure of it. Everyone at Hilltop has gotten used to the patchwork on his skin, too. In summer, he could work in the gardens without his shirt on and nobody would glance his way twice. If he’d just never opened his mouth, maybe Taiwo wouldn’t have ever dared to ask. He wouldn’t have been in this mess right now.

He gets up and heads back to the room. Taiwo is still on the bed. On his belly now, hugging the pillow while reading his book. The lights of the candles illuminate his back and shoulders, toned arms and wild afro. He rolls to one side and looks over his shoulder.

Daryl closes the door and leans against the wall with his hand in the pockets of his jeans.

Taiwo lifts an eyebrow.

Daryl shrugs.

‘Right,’ his boyfriend sighs before turning back to the book. ‘Whatever, Daryl.’

‘What does _that_ mean?’

‘Just – whatever, man! Don’t tell me – tell me. I don’t care.’

‘Thought you wanted to know,’ Daryl says with a sneer.

‘Of course I want to know,’ Taiwo snaps, ‘but you don’t _have_ to tell me. I didn’t ask for this, you offered and now you’ve changed your mind. That’s fine. You could have just told me instead of running away.’

‘Fine! I changed my mind.’

‘Fine! That’s _fine_.’ Taiwo turns back around and flips a page. He mutters something under his breath.

‘What was that?’ Daryl asks with narrowed eyes. He’s not expecting an answer. Beth does this all the time to get under his skin and Henry always mutters something or other under his breath when Morgan makes him train.

Taiwo, however, throws another look over his shoulder. ‘I said; I bet you told Jesus.’

‘You gotta be fucking shittin’ me,’ Daryl breathes. ‘So you’re a dirty fuckin’ liar now? It ain’t fine I changed my mind because _you wanna know_ , huh? Fine.’ He takes his hoodie off and throws it aside. ‘Lemme tell you all about it!’

Taiwo sits up on the bed, pushing the book away. ‘Daryl, no, I didn’t mean-‘

Daryl points at the scar on his hip. ‘Dad send me out to get him booze ‘nd cigarettes but were too drunk to remember he only gave me ten bucks. Beat me silly for not gettin’ him the good stuff. Oh, and this one,’ he points to the one crossing from his collarbone to his nipple, ‘child services came sniffing ‘round our place and he taught me how to keep a straight face and lie through my teeth. You know how hard it is to say it ain’t hurtin’ when he whoops you with a goddamn belt? And you’re fucking ten? _Do you know how hard that is_?’

‘No,’ Taiwo whispers.

‘Never got good at that, I’m a terrible liar, right?’ Daryl sneers. He unbuckles his belt and pushes his jeans down, tugs the leg of his boxer shorts up to reveal the scars on his thigh. ‘Continued the lesson myself later. Took my mind of the other shit that made me want to do all that to my goddamn wrists.’ He buttons his jeans back up. ‘And yeah – Jesus probably knows most of it. Knows my daddy was a piece of shit, he’s seen my chest. He ain’t stupid. But hey!’ Daryl laughs, a strange sound that’s cruel and cold, ‘now you can one-up him with all the details, man! Want to know what I’ve done to deserve my back lookin’ like that?’

‘No,’ Taiwo says. ‘Please..’

‘Please, _what_? You wanted to know, right? The one on my left shoulder blade? Tried to feed a bunch of strangers some squirrels to keep them from fucking starving. He didn’t like that none. Right below it; a teacher called the house to check up on us because my grades weren’t so hot the months after my mom had burned to death. Oh,’ he shows his back to his boyfriend, ‘on the right? Got mouthy. Got _brave_ one night. I talked back and learned not to do it ever again.’

Taiwo lets his elbows rest on his pulled-up knees. One hand disappearing in his curls, the other wrapping around his own neck. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says.

‘Nah. You’re a piece of shit, is what you are,’ Daryl mutters as he sits down on the edge of the bed. He takes the baseball cap off and carefully puts it on desk. Rough hands cover his face. He breathes in deeply, suddenly so tired. There are tears burning in his eyes even though the memories don’t hurt that badly anymore.

Neither of them says anything for a very long time.

‘Fuck,’ Daryl whispers.

‘Yeah.’

‘I would have told you eventually,’ Daryl says, voice muffled because of his hands. He shifts them so the palms press into his closed eyes. ‘If you’d just _waited_ , I’d have told you on my own terms. Why’s everything gotta be _right now_ with you? Fuck, man.’

Taiwo scoots closer to the edge of the bed. ‘I don’t know. I’m sorry. It’s… I don’t know. I shouldn’t have said that.’

‘No, you shouldn’t have. It don’t even make sense. ‘course Paul knows, just like how Aaron knows, Enid, Ezekiel, everyone who has spent more than two seconds around me or my family. He’s part of my family.’

‘I know. I’m sorry.’

Daryl frowns. ‘You suddenly mad he got my dick up when I were sixteen or something? A fucking breeze did that, man.’

Taiwo snorts. He grabs the blankets and drapes one over his boyfriend’s naked back to keep him warm. He wraps the other around himself. ‘I don’t know why I said that.’ He leans closer and kisses the spot just under Daryl’s ear before tugging at the earlobe with his teeth. ‘Sorry.’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl tilts his head to the side for better access but he shoves Taiwo’s shoulder when the other boy sucks a hickey on his neck. ‘You claimin’ me now, you jealous asshole?’

‘No.’

‘Liar.’

‘I mean; yeah.’

Daryl snorts and shakes his head.

Taiwo reaches out to run his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair. Even on the side there, he can feel scars beneath his fingertips.

‘Got shot in the head,’ Daryl murmurs, ‘right after I’d pierced myself with the bolt. Came limpin’ back to the camp and some lady shot me. Thought I were a walker. Bolt hurt something fierce, but gettin’ shot in the head? _Shit_.’

‘Can’t imagine.’

‘’s a good thing. Don’t remember much, just… Shane were there. I remember him holding me down while they stitched me up, but he was there later, too, ya know? Just chillin’. I thought it was so weird at first. He kept fussing over me, tucking me in, getting me water and painkillers and all that.’

Taiwo hums softly.

‘Turns out that’s what dads do,’ Daryl says with a huff of laughter. ‘Who the fuck knew.’

‘I’m sorry yours was such an asshole.’

Daryl shrugs. ‘He wasn’t always. We had a lot of good times, too.’

Taiwo seems to decide that it’s best not to say anything. They sit side by side on the edge of the bed. Outside, voices start to die out and the light coming through the blinds is getting dimmer by the minute.

‘I’m sorry for throwin’ all that at you,’ Daryl murmurs. He pulls at his fingers nervously. ‘I shouldn’t have done that, should have just walked. Or not. I don’t know what’s best sometimes. ‘

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Taiwo assures him. ‘You don’t have to be sorry.’

‘Hmm.’ The Dixon rubs at the side of his head and yawns.

‘Do you want me to leave?’

‘No.’

Taiwo waits a beat. ‘Do you want to go to bed?’

Daryl nods. He kicks his boots under the desk, shrugs the blanket off so he can step out of his jeans and then crawls back into bed, dragging the blankets with him. Now that the lights are powering down, the temperature drops quickly.

For a second, Taiwo seems unsure of what to do. Then he just follows his boyfriend, crawling back to the top of the bed and sliding under the heap of blankets. They lay there side by side. He chews on his lip. ‘Just so we’re –you know... clear. I can stay the night?

‘Yeah.’

‘Great.’ Taiwo drums his fingers in the blanket.

Daryl suppresses a fond smile and turns over. He grabs Taiwo’s right hip and drags his boyfriend closer to the middle of the bed.  They settle down together. There’s some clumsy scuffling about which limb goes where but they figure it out quickly.

Taiwo presses a kiss to his shoulder. ‘Night.’

Daryl chews on his thumb. ‘Yeah –err.. night.’

His boyfriend tenses. ‘What’s wrong? Do you want me to le-‘

‘I get nightmares,’ Daryl blurts out. ‘That’s why I said I liked sleeping alone. They’re bad.’

Taiwo kisses his shoulder again. ‘Do I need to let you sleep through them, let you wake up by yourself or wake you up?’

‘Wake me up,’ Daryl says quickly because the nightmares are endless when someone leaves him be. He has had a nightmare once while he was on patrol with some of the Kingdom guards. Just one overnight stay in a safe house some place, he hadn’t even though about it before agreeing to take the place of a guard who hadn’t been feeling well. He remembers waking up to Jerry booming his name, sitting up and seeing the other guards stare at him with wide eyes, some covering their ears. Whether it had been from his own screams, or the whooping Jerry gave them all, he never knew. If Jerry hadn’t come back from his shift, they would have let him drown in his nightmares.

‘Just don’t touch me when you wake me up,’ Daryl adds. ‘Stay back. I tend to hit people who hover over me when I wake up.’

Taiwo laughs and hugs him. ‘I’ll stay back.’

‘Okay.’ Daryl sighs. ‘It feels like I got a whole manual and you’re just chilling.’

His boyfriend is quiet for a moment. ‘I used to have nightmares like that, too. Bad ones. They come back sometimes, but not as often anymore. Last time I had them was when one of the adults – he kept saying how… Like – Amaka and I are twins, right?’

Daryl hums.

‘And after our dad died, we stuck together. Like – _stuck together_ , you know? Always sitting next to each other, we took on the same job so we could do it together, slept in the same bed like when we were kids, everything. When one of us would be showering, the other would sit against the door so we could still talk and know they were there,’ Taiwo says. He tightens his hold on Daryl, cold nose pressing against his neck. ‘One of the adults thought it was unhealthy. They built a separating wall in our room, made us sleep in different beds.’

‘Bad idea?’ Daryl guesses.

‘The worst. I think our screaming kept the whole community awake. We’d try, right? Because we both knew what we had been doing wasn’t healthy either, but it just doesn’t work like that. You can’t force getting over something like that. They helped us remove the wall after three nights. We slept in the same bed again and it was fine.’ Taiwo sighs. ‘The intention behind it was good – we just had to do it on our own terms. Slowly started to do our own things again, sleep in our own beds after a couple of weeks. The nightmares weren’t as bad that time around. We hardly have them anymore. It takes time.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Get some sleep,’ his boyfriend mutters. ‘And if you change your mind and kick me out because you can’t – I won’t be an asshole about it this time.’

Daryl snorts and laces their fingers together, drawing Taiwo’s arm tighter around himself.

 

 

The days fly by. Some mornings he leaves Taiwo in bed to sleep in while he joins Amaka on her rounds. After he got some guards in trouble with Mason, they weren’t too keen on him joining their ranks but Amaka’s glare was impressive enough to silence the grumbles. His crossbow and knife-work did the rest.

They don’t mind him tagging along anymore.

He likes spending time with Amaka. It’s funny to see Taiwo’s expressions on a different face and he soaks up the small tidbits she shares about her twin. The fact that he once sat down on the tracks during PE and refused to move despite threats of detention and getting expelled because he just hadn’t felt like running that day. Or that Taiwo adores music but can’t hold a beat to save his life. That Amaka once broke her arm when she was six and he’d thrown a tantrum because he’d wanted a cast too. Apparently, he had a knack for remembering birthdays.

Though the information is a nice bonus, he genuinely likes to spend time with her. She’s witty and smart, easy to talk to and not easily scared off by a glare or snarky remark on his end. She doesn’t seem to be very impressed by the stories others brought back from the Kingdom either. When some of the guards ask whether Ezekiel rode Shiva into battle, she almost chokes on her breakfast and laughs until the men feel stupid.

The afternoons he spends with Taiwo, roaming around the city or doing chores in the community. They climb up another high building and he marvels at the sight of the white house through some binoculars. A huge wall made of cars and metal has been rigged up around the perimeter but he recognizes the dome from pictures and the news. It’s not white anymore though. Blackened by fire and dirty, but still standing proud.

Taiwo takes him to see other landmarks, too. A famous bridge that has collapsed into the river. The seat of congress that’s now nothing but rubble. Statues of famous people long gone. His boyfriend tells him stories about how the city was locked down when the disease started to spread. That he remembers watching news reports of people trying to climb the barricades to get into the safe zone. Some were shot. They rose again hours later and took the city anyway.

Daryl tells him how his father had tried to lead them to Atlanta. About the traffic jam and how he had to pee and had watched the city explode from a hill. Fireworks, his dad had called it. He’d been horrified at the time, his mind flashing to the other people at the trailer park who had left earlier. The ones who had probably made it all the way to the city.

He tells Taiwo about the CDC and doctor Jenner who’d thought he’d owed it to his wife to try and find a cure until the last second. That night of booze and laughter until it all exploded into decontamination.

Taiwo says there had been a guy in their camp before who’d claimed he was immune. Riddled with walker bites but no fever, no infection. That there had been something off about the way he kept insisting they’d repopulate the world with his kin, that he’d needed to be protected at all costs. That he’d accepted young women as his bride if they were pretty enough. Not just accepted though. Took. That one of the fathers of a bride dragged a walker into camp at night, throwing it at the man, skeptical of the claims and enraged that he’d dared to put his hands on his youngest daughter.

The self-proclaimed messiah was put down the next morning as he turned. In his bedroom, they’d found molds of teeth from a dentist. He’d used those to create the bites himself. Taiwo isn’t sure what happened to the father or his daughter.

Daryl tells the story about Eugene, who’d lied for protection too. That he hadn’t trusted it from the start but nobody wanted to believe him and how he hadn’t been willing to fight for it in the aftermath of Shane’s death. He hadn’t cared enough to put his foot down. That he’d kept his head down and followed Glenn’s footsteps like a lost puppy.

They’re sitting on a bench in a big park. It’s snowing but neither of them cares.

Taiwo scratches at his cheek. ‘How did Shane die?’

Daryl shakes his head.

‘Okay,’ Taiwo says easily. He’s wiping blood from his dao. ‘What’s the story about your baseball cap?’

‘What makes you think there’s a story? Maybe I just like wearing baseball caps.’

‘First time you came here, you threatened to kill someone if you didn’t get it back. I’ve offered you one of my hats that will actually keep your damn ears warm, but you refuse to switch. It seems like every piece of clothing you wear means something to you.’

Daryl shoots him a small smile. ‘Yeah. Glenn gave me his baseball cap way back when. I lost it someplace though. People took it from me. Saw this one at another place. It reminds me of him, makes me feel better, you know? ‘s why Carl wears his dad’s hat, and why I wear a baseball cap.’

‘What about the angel wings?’

‘They used to be my dad’s.’

‘Your real dad?’

Daryl nods. He glances down at his boyfriend’s lap where the metal gleams. ‘Where did you get the sword?’

‘Dingy weapon shop somewhere downtown,’ Taiwo grins. ‘I just picked it because it looked awesome. Now I’m pretty good with it.’

‘Yeah. You are.’

Taiwo ducks his head to hide how the grin morphs into a soft smile. ‘Thanks.’

Daryl shifts closer to him. ‘Last day.’

‘I know. I’ll miss you,’ Taiwo sighs. ‘We’ll see each other soon though, right? You’ll come back?’

‘Of course. Real soon.’

‘ _How_ soon?’

Daryl laughs. ‘So soon that you won’t have time to miss me.’

‘Doubtful,’ Taiwo shifts on the bench and stretches out. His head in Daryl’s lap, long legs stretched out so his boots dangle from the seat. He looks up at his boyfriend. ‘You’re not going to wait for that harvest festival, right?’

‘’course not. I’ll be back in two or three weeks. Won’t be able to stay this long though,’ Daryl pulls a face. ‘People will think I’m just on vacation all the damn time otherwise. It was kind of hard to explain why I had to stay for so long this time.’

Taiwo huffs. ‘Well, if you just tell them that you have to keep your boyfriend’s bed warm, that wouldn’t be a problem.’

‘Oh, that’s all I do now, is it?’ Daryl laughs and hugs him closer, keeping an arm around him. He hesitates for a second. ‘I’ll tell them when I get back.’

‘It was just a joke, Daryl.’

‘Nah –I’ll tell them. Or – I’ll tell Maggie. She already knows, I think, but…. Well, she knows we’ve been sending letters. She said I shouldn’t wait too long with telling her more or introducing you two to each other, said she wanted to know which guy could make me smile like that.’

‘Smile like that?’ Taiwo asks with a frown.

‘Your letters,’ Daryl reminds him.

‘Oh. Okay. She knows I’m a guy?’

Daryl leans down to playfully bite at his boyfriend’s nose. ‘Yes.’ He strokes Taiwo’s cheek with his gloved fingers. ‘I meant it, ya know… about you comin’ to the festival at Alexandria. I didn’t say it ‘cause I thought I had to. I do want you to meet her. And Merle, of course. Everyone.’

‘I’d like that,’ Taiwo nods, ‘but it’s a long way away still. Maybe you’ll get sick of me before that festival and it won’t even be a problem.’

‘I’m serious!’

‘Me too! If we’re still like this by that time, I’ll come to the festival.’

‘You’ll probably come anyway, and if we’re not like this, it’s going to be awkward as fuck.’

Taiwo snorts. ‘I have a feeling that if we end on bad terms, going to Alexandria might put me in grave danger, so I’ll pass on the damn harvest festival, thank you very much.’

Daryl thinks about that for a moment. ‘Well – not _grave_ danger, just...’ He trails off, looking doubtful. ‘Danger.’

‘Holy shit,’ Taiwo laughs. ‘I changed my mind. I don’t even want to meet your family anymore.’

‘No, you’re meeting them now,’ Daryl laughs, ‘so you better be nice to me!’

Taiwo grabs hold of his neck and tugs his head down, kissing him deeply. ‘I’ll be nice to you,’ he promises.

Daryl grins wickedly. ‘Let’s go back home.’

‘Someone is eager.’

‘Get up,’ Daryl laughs, pushing his boyfriend off. He grabs his hand and together they run back to the metro station.

 

 

‘Don’t go,’ Taiwo mutters into his neck the next morning. They’re standing the garage next to Daryl’s bike. Everything is packed up, his crossbow fixed to the frame. He’s ready to leave.

Daryl sighs and tightens his hold on the other boy. ‘I gotta,’ he mutters. He’s excited about going home to see Merle, Maggie and Hershel, and even thrilled to stop by Alexandria on the way back to see the Grimes family and Tara and Rosita, but he doesn’t want to leave at the same time. They’ve been stalling all morning, skipping breakfast to stay in bed longer, trying to memorize each other before the inevitable separation.

‘I know,’ Taiwo says.

Daryl has already said goodbye to everyone else. A big hug for Amaka and Hakeem, handshakes for the rest and for Vera a playful shove while she exclaimed loudly how quiet it’ll be at night without the two of them going at it.

‘Okay,’ he drags himself out of the embrace. ‘I really gotta go.’ Another lingering kiss. ‘For real.’

‘For real,’ Taiwo nods before claiming another kiss. ‘Okay,’ he steps back, hands held up. ‘Go.’

Daryl laughs and gives him a light shove. He slides onto his bike.

‘That’s fucking hot,’ Taiwo grins.

Daryl blushes. ‘Don’t start nothing!’ he warns as he fires up the machine. ‘Open the gates,’ he says into his radio. ‘Heading out.’

‘Copy.’

He bites on his lip and glances up at Taiwo. ‘See you soon.’

‘See you soon, Daryl Dixon,’ Taiwo smiles.

He hesitates for a second but then opens up the gas. Feet leave asphalt and he’s gone with a roar of the bike. One hand raised to thank the guards, getting up on the pegs to skids over the threshold of Washington D.C. He watches how the community disappears in his rearview mirror.

 

 

Hours later, the gates of Alexandria open up for him. People stop to stare. He doesn’t know most of those people but he squeezes his brakes hard when Rosita comes running out of the pantry to greet him. Without hesitation, she climbs on the back of his ride, looping her arms around him for a tight hug.

‘Welcome back!’

He laughs and tears through the streets to give her a fright. It doesn’t work. She just laughs and holds on tightly, trusting him to take her to Rick’s place safely. He parks right in front of the house, not bothering to hide the bike in the garage.

Rick’s house is warm. There’s soft music playing and laughter echoes from every room.

‘Yo, I’m home!’ Daryl calls out as he dumps his stuff in the hall. He shrugs out of his jacket and throws the scarf into the corner.

Michonne comes down the staircase with Judith on her hip. ‘Welcome home, Dare,’ she presses a kiss to his forehead and hands the little girl over without a question. ‘Wash your hands, dinner is ready in a couple of minutes. You’re right on time.’

‘But my hands are full,’ Daryl laughs as he throws Judith up in the air and catches her again. ‘Hi Asskicker! I’ve missed you!’

‘Again! Again!’ the girl shrieks.

He does it again and then puts her down. ‘Hey,’ he grins when he spots Rick and Tara at the stove. The former cop doesn’t seem to be doing much but stir a pot while Tara checks on the meat. He washes his hands.

‘Dare,’ Rick reaches out and pulls him close for a kiss on the side of his head.

‘Hey, nerd!’

Daryl gives Tara a half-hearted glare. Then he turns to Rick, ‘is it okay if I join y’all for dinner? I didn’t really ask or tell you I’d be –‘

‘Stop,’ Rick says before he can finish his sentence. ‘You’re always welcome here. Don’t ask such a stupid question.’

‘Okay,’ Daryl grins. He grabs the plates to set the table while Rosita fills the water pitcher. The conversation flows easily. About how the construction of the mill is going, that Carl is overseeing the working force with help from Cyndie from Oceanside. About his ride back from Washington, that one of the wooden bridges looks about ready to collapse. Michonne tuts disapprovingly when he admits he still tore over it with his bike.

Judith complains about having to eat vegetables but quickly eats them when Tara loudly proclaims how much she _loves_ vegetables.

There’s a lull in the conversation while Daryl quickly shovels food into his mouth. He’s starving after skipping breakfast and lunch.

‘So,’ Rick says while running one hand over his trimmed beard and bracing himself against the table with his other arm, ‘how was Washington?’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl nods, ‘real good. Real nice people. Good stuff to trade, their power grid is crazy effective. Oh! Mason said thanks for the gun. Sign of good faith and all that.’

‘Right,’ Rick nods. He seems tense as he glares at Michonne, Rosita and Tara. The women giggle. ‘That’s good, Dare. I’m glad you had a good time.’

‘Oh he had _a good time_ alright,’ Tara snorts.

‘Don’t,’ Rick says.

Daryl frowns. ‘What?’

‘Nothing,’ Michone says. ‘Come on, tell us some more. You’ve been there a while. What did you do?’

He tells her about capitol hill and the White House. About roaming around the city, exploring the old world and climbing to the top of that tall building and zip lining down. The patrols he’s been on, but how he hadn’t been allowed to visit the other stations. He has only heard little fractions of news about them. At least one of them is above ground. They have horses and gardens there. Life stock. A farm.

‘That sounds great,’ Rick says with a smile.

Rosita puts her feet up on the table and cleans her fingernails with one of her knives. She cocks an eyebrow. ‘Really? Nobody is going to ask about that gigantic hickey he has on his neck? Okay.’

Daryl freezes. ‘Ain’t got no hickey!’

‘Put him in quarantine, Rick,’ Tara snorts. ‘He’s been bitten.’

‘Ain’t bit neither! I- I fell ‘nd got a bruise, is all.’

‘You fell,’ Rick says while scratching at his beard to hide his smile.

‘Yeah…’

‘How?’ Rosita asks.

‘Slipped in the shower stall…’

‘Oh, it happened in the _shower stall_ , huh?’ Tara hoots and laughs.

‘Shut up!’ Daryl hisses but then looks caught as he glances at Rick first and then at Michonne.

Michonne looks amused. ‘I’m sorry you got hurt, Dare.’

‘Didn’t really hurt but-‘

‘I bet it didn’t!’

‘ _Will you shut the fuck up_ ,’ Daryl slams his fist down next to Tara’s hand as a threat.

‘You fell,’ Rick says loudly to regain some kind of order in his kitchen, ‘and you hit your neck.’ A grin breaks through. ‘Do you need medical assistance?’

‘Medical – leave me the hell alone!’ Daryl sputters. He folds his hand over the hickey.

‘Too late for damage control,’ Rosita snorts.

‘But you’re _hurt_ ,’ Rick says with a shit-eating grin. ‘I don’t want to take any chances.’

‘Michonne!’ Daryl moans pathetically.

‘You dug this hole all by yourself,’ the woman laughs but she still reaches out to tug him close so he can hide his burning face in the crook of her neck.

‘I think he had help,’ Rosita smirks.

Tara laughs and Rick snorts.

Judith climbs off her chair and runs over to her brother, tugging at his arm until he lifts her onto his lap. She gives him a big hug.

‘Thank you, Asskicker,’ Daryl says. ‘That makes me feel better. You’re the only one I love, okay? Your dad’s a meanie. And-‘

‘No!’ Judith objects.

‘He is,’ Daryl insists.

Judith shoves him. ‘ _No_!’

Rick smirks. He stands up and slowly heads towards the front door. ‘Oh- I suddenly remember I have to radio Maggie about-‘

Daryl puts Judith down carefully and then runs after Rick. ‘You fucking asshole, come back here, don’t you fuckin’ dare- _come back here_!’

 

 


	37. His name is Taiwo

 

* * *

 

 

 

‘The problems at the Sanctuary are getting worse.’

Daryl pads around the kitchen to make breakfast. Sock-clad feet sliding over the hardwood floor as he grabs a pot and the ingredients he needs. He’s not bad at cooking. Even at the beginning, he had known how to make his own breakfast and a simple meal because sometimes Will would stop caring for a couple of days and leave him to it. The meat and fish they would catch was easy enough to prepare, too. Shane always pretended to know how to make anything, squinting at the instructions on faded boxes before throwing them aside, saying he wanted to eat and not start a goddamn book club _._ Lori, Carol and Glenn had taught him the rest on the road.

‘That right, huh?’ Daryl grunts.

Rick is sitting at the kitchen table. It’s early in the morning, about an hour before sunrise. The former cop looks tired. There are deep lines on his face, bags under his eyes. He’s slouching in his seat, one leg kicked out. His gun belt is hanging from the back of his chair. The hatchet gleams in the artificial light of the kitchen.

‘Frankie didn’t go back to that hellhole to fix shit after all?’ the teenager asks. ‘Got eggs, man?’

Rick gestures to a large pot on the counter. ‘In there. Frankie is back at the Sanctuary to help Dwight, but it’s just one thing after another.’ The cop wipes a hand over his face. ‘First it was just – the first weeks were hard on _all of us_.’ He sounds defensive. ‘We had all lost people. Alexandria was part ashes – the factory wasn’t running – farmers had been turned into soldiers. _Every_ community was struggling.’

Daryl hums.

‘Dwight isn’t Negan,’ Rick says. He puts one boot on another chair and crosses his arms. ‘People don’t follow him the way they did with Negan.’

‘’cause Dwight won’t ram a barbed wire bat up their asses if they don’t.’

Rick nods. ‘They held an election a couple of days after the war. They chose Dwight.’

Daryl sucks on his teeth. ‘Elections. Those things ain’t ever unanimous. Someone always gets to say; but _I_ didn’t vote for him so he ain’t shit to me.’ He shrugs when he sees that Rick is studying him. ‘’s what my dad always said. I ain’t surprised those fuckers are still givin’ everyone grief. What’s wrong now?’

‘We tried to get their farm going before winter would set in. It didn’t work, the harvest failed. They can’t sustain themselves.’

Daryl nods because he’s heard all of that during Hilltop’s meetings. Maggie hadn’t been too happy when the request came in to send food to the Sanctuary but she hadn’t been surprised either. There hadn’t been nearly enough time to turn the grounds of a former factory into a proper farm. Or thieves into farmers. ‘Maggie sent a truck stuffed with supplies.’

He remembers sitting on the fence of Khamsin’s pen, watching how it was loaded up. He had been glad Merle hadn’t ordered him to help.

‘They think we’re holding out on them.’

‘They should be fucking grateful for anything they get.’

‘They think we’re starving them.’

Daryl works his jaw and swallows his knee-jerk reaction. ‘What, they want to send people ‘round to come inspect our kitchen cupboards or something?’

‘I don’t know,’ Rick says with a sigh. He rubs at his temple. ‘They also complained that they don’t have any doctors anymore.’

‘’s their own damn fault nobody wants to live with them,’ Daryl snorts. He shuts the stove off and gives Rick his breakfast before falling into his own chair and starting to eat. ‘I know one of the doctors from the Kingdom visits them every month. What’re they crying for?’

‘They say it’s not enough.’

‘They’ve been spoiled since the day they kissed Negan’s ass. _Half_? They ain’t getting half of shit now, they’re gonna have to make do with the scraps, just like we did. And I know it’s real sad they can’t have any more fucking ice cream, but they’re just gonna have to eat some fucking snow like the rest of us.’ Daryl moodily stirs his oatmeal. ‘They should be real grateful that doctor even wants to visit them, Harlan won’t. Paul tried to get him to go. Didn’t work.’

‘I know.’ Rick looks at his own plate of eggs and bread. He reaches out and switches his plate with Daryl’s bowl.

‘The hell?’

‘You hate oatmeal,’ Rick says. ‘Eat the eggs, Dare.’

He thinks about objecting, but he really does hate oatmeal. There hadn’t been enough bread or eggs for all of them though. ‘Thanks.’

Rick looks surprised for a second. ‘You’re welcome.’

They eat in silence. Daryl studies the former cop. It almost surprises Daryl how easily he can picture Rick before the outbreak. At the breakfast bar in a house with a white picket fence, a mowed lawn and a barbeque in the garage. Reading a paper on Sunday mornings, keeping an eye on Carl while the little boy raced toy cars around in the living room, kissing Lori good morning and teasing her with her lumpy pancakes.

Sometimes, he doesn’t seem all that different from this guy. Older now but stronger too, eating his breakfast while waiting for his family to wake up. Maybe it’s Sunday today. Who knows. There’s a hatchet hanging from his belt, now. His son is gone to rebuilt their world. He still wears his goddamn cowboy boots.

Some things never change, Daryl thinks with a huff of laughter.

Rick glances over at him but doesn’t ask.

When he’s done, the teenager hesitates. Fingers fidgeting, feet scraping over the floor beneath him. He shifts in his seat, clears his throat, tries to casually start a conversation.

Rick looks up.

Daryl quickly looks away.

Rick pushes his bowl aside and then sits back in his chair. He takes a knife out of his holster and grabs a whetstone from the other end of the table. Seconds later, the metal scrapes over the stone. The cop works diligently.

‘A while ago you said you took Lori to the movies,’ Daryl blurts out, ears burning hot the second Rick’s hands pause, ‘for – like… on your first date ‘nd all.’

‘Yeah,’ Rick says as he resumes his task. Eyes down to not spook the teenager.

‘Taiwo took me to the Smithsonian.’ He chews on his fingers for a second. ‘That’s pretty cool, right?’

Rick smiles at his knife, soft and fond. ‘Yes, it is. Did you like it?’

‘Yeah. _He_ –‘ Daryl observes Rick’s reaction but there isn’t any, ‘he and his friends had cleared an entire hall. There were all these paintings there, it was fucking awesome. I’d never even seen so many paintings, ya know? Up close, in real life, I mean. He had some paper and pencils for me, I sketched some out while he listened to music.’ Daryl chews on his thumb again. ‘He likes music.’

‘That sounds like a good first date, Dare.’

‘It was. Just – he took me a while ago.’

Rick looks up.

‘When Beth went back to Washington for the vaccines?’ Daryl murmurs, eyes glued to the table. ‘He took me while they were negotiating.’

A smirk blooms on Rick’s face but the teenager can’t see it. ‘And the last visit?’

Daryl shrugs. He curls his shoulders inward so he seems smaller. ‘Took me all kinds of places.’

Rick sighs and pushes the whetstone aside. ‘Dare,’ he leans on his forearms and tries to catch the teenager’s eye, sounding stern, ‘are you telling me you didn’t really fall and hit your neck?’

Daryl looks confused for a second. He glances up and sees that the cop can barely contain his laughter. He gives the table a shove. ‘Asshole.’

Rick laughs and holds his hand out. ‘Give me your knife.’ He starts sharpening the wicked-looking blade. ‘I’m glad you had a good time, Dare. So, he’s nice? Treats you right?’

‘Pfft!’ Daryl folds his arms in front of his chest and slouches in his chair. ‘Ain’t no goddamn girl,’ he says when Rick raises a questioning eyebrow. ‘I can take care of myself!’

‘I thought you had more respect for your sisters to be saying that.’

Daryl frowns and stares at his knees. He shifts in his seat, wipes his nose on the back of his hand and kicks one of his booted feet against the leg of his chair. After a couple of minutes, he glances up. ‘Didn’t mean nothing by it.’

‘Then don’t say nothing like it,’ Rick says with a teasing smile, letting his own southern accent come out in full force. ‘Beth would pull your tongue out with a red-hot pinchers.’

‘Well, good morning to you both,’ Michonne greets as she breezes into the room. A kiss is pressed to the crown of Daryl’s head and Rick’s lips before she grabs a bowl of oatmeal. ‘Thank you for making breakfast, Dare.’

‘How do you know I didn’t make it?’

‘It’s not burned,’ she deadpans before throwing a wink at the sniggering teenager. She sits down and lets her gaze dart from the man to the boy. ‘What were you two gossiping about?’

Daryl curls his shoulders in again. ‘Nothing.’

‘Guy stuff,’ Rick grins and Michonne rolls her eyes.

Daryl pulls at his fingers under the table and takes a deep breath. ‘My boyfriend took me to see the Smithsonian a while ago. We explored the rest of Washington this time. Got to see the White House ‘nd everything.’ He ducks his head.

‘Really?’ Michonne sounds amused. ‘That sounds great. What’s his name?’

‘Taiwo.’

‘That’s a beautiful name.’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl mutters. ‘’s real nice.’ He glances up at Rick through his bangs, ‘good to me.’ He jumps up and grabs the dirty dishes before dashing over to the sink with burning ears. He waits for the sink to fill with hot water. He looks out of the window, watches how the sky starts to turn lighter. ‘Haven’t told Maggie or Merle yet. Maggie kinda knows, but… Merle don’t.’

Michonne looks at him. ‘What are you worried about?’

‘Nothing.’ The water is too hot but he starts washing up anyway. ‘Ain’t worried at all.’

The woman slowly rises and approaches him. She steps up behind him, plasters herself against his back, hands curling around his hurting ones to pull them out of the water. Chin on his broad shoulder, lips against the shell of his ear.

‘We love you,’ she whispers so only he can hear.

 

 

Despite the cold, Hilltop Colony is bustling with activity when he arrives in the late afternoon. Maggie and Beth had called him a city boy when he’d wrinkled his nose and said that they wouldn’t be growing much out on the fields during winter. A winter’s harvest might be lean, but it’s certainly necessary. There are people out in the fields now, plowing the earth and pulling carrots and unions out of their respective patches.

There’s a group of people chopping wood. A couple of kids help out by carrying the logs towards either Barrington house, the stables or the expansion. The horses have already been turned in for the day but Daryl grins when he sees a lone figure galloping in the biggest pen. Even with the cold, Khamsin prefers to remain outdoors for as long as possible. There’s a blanket thrown over her to keep her body warm. Daryl doesn’t doubt she gave Dante some grief before being allowed to stay out a little while longer.

People look up at the familiar roar of his bike. Hands are raised and smiles break through. Some call out, beaming when he raises his hand in return. He parks the vehicle next to their garage where they keep their cars. Most haven’t been used in while, they’re trying to save gasoline, but they will run smoothly in case of an emergency.

His legs are stiff from the cold as he heads over to Barrington House, his leather bag thrown over his shoulder. Nose hidden under his scarf but his breath still a white mist in the cold.

Barrington House is brightly lit and warm. There’s a fire roaring in every room, it seems. Candles lit on cabinets, oil lamps casting shadows on the walls. For a second Daryl stands in the big hall, looking up at the gigantic staircase, the old paintings, the cabinets filled with silverware. It’s strange that he feels more at home here than he has over felt in that trailer, or the prison, or even Rick’s house at Alexandria.

‘Dixon junior!’ one of the kitchen staff greets as she walks past, arms full with a bag of potatoes. ‘Good to see you back!’

‘Good to be back,’ Daryl says as he throws his bag into a corner next to the staircase and heads into the big room on the side. He gasps loudly, folding both hands over his mouth before falling to his knees. ‘Hey!’ He says, holding both his arms out. ‘ _Hey_!’

Hershel looks up at him with big, brown eyes. He laughs at his big brother and then, clumsily, starts to crawl. It doesn’t go fast enough for his liking though and he tries to reach for him with one hand, almost falling over.

‘Like this,’ Daryl grins as he crawls over to the boy on his hands and feet. Their noses boop softly. ‘You’ll get it in no time. Hey! Hey Kiss.’ He scoops the boy up and hugs him tightly before kissing his chubby cheek. ‘I’ve missed you!’

Hershel touches his eyebrow and cheek, hand padding over his face before grabbing hold of his scarf.

‘It’s to keep my nose from freezin’ off,’ Daryl tells him. ‘It’s green! Cool, huh?’

Hershel huffs and slumps against his shoulder.

‘Oh, you’re over it already, hmm? Brat.’ He kisses the boy’s temple before darting over to Beth. She’s sitting on the couch with a blanket draped over her pulled-up legs and a big medical book in her lap. A lot of pages have been marked, pencils stick out in other places. She holds out an arm to draw him into a hug.

‘Hey Dare. Glad you’re back.’

‘Everything okay?’ He sits down next to her.

‘Everything’s fine. Maggie is working in the barn today and Merle is at the building site. He’ll be back before dark though.’

‘Thanks. Amaka says hi, by the way. I think she was a bit disappointed that it was just me this time,’ Daryl grins. ‘Ain’t too many girls there her age, except Vera.’

Beth smiles. ‘How’s she doing?’

‘Good. Fine, ya know?’

A mischievous glint appears in her eye. ‘How is her brother? Taiwo, right?’

‘Yeah – erm… He’s good. Doing good, I mean. He helped me get some stuff for the school, couple of books. They’re in my bag.’

Beth gives him a pointed look.

Daryl glances at the rest of the people in the room before tucking his scarf down.

Beth’s eyes go wide before she swats his arm, giggling. ‘I _knew_ it!’

‘You did not,’ Daryl laughs.

‘Are you kidding me? There was drool dripping down your chin every time he walked past!’

‘Now you’re just making shit up, girl. Did you hear that bullshit, Kiss? Yeah. Can you say that? Bull. Shit. _Bullshit_! Let’s go find mom. We don’t have to listen to all of this,’ he gets up but catches Beth’s hand in his, squeezing it tightly before grabbing a blanket and wrapping Hershel in it. Together they walk towards the barn.

‘That’s a trailer. Trailer. Yeah, that’s where Paul lives, right? Oh! Do you see the horsey? Look!’ He points at Khamsin, who is on the other side of the pen. He whistles sharply and she looks up but doesn’t come towards him. ‘Oh, she’s grumpy!’ Daryl laughs. ‘I’ll have to bribe her later, right?’

Hershel giggles.

‘Right,’ Daryl agrees.

There’s a fire burning in a barrel at the end of the barn. The ground has been swept clean, fresh hay and water ready for every horse. Most of the stalls are empty, however. Daryl guesses that the people working on the mill have taken them there to save on fuel. The leads, spare saddles and tacks have been cleaned, even the doors scrubbed down.

Maggie is sitting on an up-turned bucket near the fire. She adjusts a halter while talking quietly with Dante, who is sitting on the ground next to her. Close together, his knee resting against her thigh. He makes her laugh.

Footsteps cause the two to look up.

Dante quickly jumps up. ‘Daryl! Hey.’

‘Hey Dante. Hey Mags. I kidnapped your kid for a bit,’ he tells Maggie while bobbing Hershel on his hip as he walks over. ‘Beth told me you were here.’

‘My two favorite boys,’ Maggie laughs before she gets up and pulls him in a hug. When they part again, she traces his face with her fingertips. ‘You look good, Dare,’ she inspects him some more, ‘but goodness me. Time flies.’

‘Just forgot to shave, woman,’ Daryl laughs while pushing her hand away, ‘stop makin’ me feel like an old man!’

She pulls him closer by his neck and kisses his cheek soundly.

Dante puts his hand into the pockets of his jeans and scuffs his shoe on the concrete. ‘I’ll go get Khamsin, Daryl.’

‘Don’t worry about it, man,’ Daryl says. ‘I’ll get her after dinner. She’s sulking on the other side of the pen right now because I dared to leave her for more than a day, but hey… If you wanna play cowboy ‘nd chase her some… be my fucking guest.’

Dante shakes his head. ‘I’ll leave it to you then.’ He ducks his head. ‘I’ll head back inside. Bye Maggie.’

‘Bye Dante, thank you for letting me help today.’

‘Sure.’ The man shoots her a shy smile before heading back to Barrington House.

‘Got bored in the big fancy house?’ Daryl asks when he’s gone.

Maggie sits back down on the bucket with a sigh. ‘My daddy always said; cleaning out a stable is like cleaning out your head. Pretty sure he just said it to make us do our chores, but he was right. Aaron was there to oversee it all at the house. I didn’t leave them to their fate.’

‘Some peace and quiet,’ Daryl says.

Maggie nods. ‘I don’t know how Jesus did it, and to be honest; he’s still doing most of it. He has a way with people, knows what they say they want, what they actually want and what they actually need. It doesn’t usually overlap,’ she says with a soft laugh. ‘How’s everyone?’

‘Doing good. I stayed a while longer to hang out with Tara ‘nd Rosita. They posed for the wall, thinkin’ I can’t paint them in my goddamn sleep.’ He huffs. ‘ _That’s not how my nose looks_ ,’ he screeches, trying to mimic Rosita’s offended outcry. ‘Trouble, those two. Speaking of,’ Daryl sits down on the floor with Hershel in his lap, ‘I talked to Rick. Saviors ain’t happy?’

‘No. They’re not.’

‘Is that why Beth’s brushing up on her skills right now?’

‘Beth’s always brushing up on her skills. You don’t become a doctor in a single year.’

Daryl looks up. ‘Maggie,’ he says softly.

She closes her eyes.

‘When’s she leaving for the Sanctuary? I ain’t stupid, and that girl doesn’t have a mean bone in her body. The others don’t want to go, she will. And someone cleaned the entire barn in a weird fit of rage.’

 Maggie huffs out a breath of laughter. ‘She won’t change her mind. Trust me, I tried. She’s leaving in two days. Harlan is putting some stuff together for her, they’re waiting for a package from the kingdom with medicine she’ll need. I’m sending Kal with her, anyone else from the guards who we can spare.’

Daryl nods. He lets Hershel play with his necklaces, the little pendants are always fascinating to the baby. Only when he tries to put one of the wedding rings in his mouth, does Daryl gently pry it out of his hands. Hershel settles for his pinky instead. Happy noises escape from the bundle of blankets and Daryl smiles down at him.

‘I didn’t realize you were home-sick when you called.’

Daryl tilts his head to the side. ‘Merle did.’

‘Yeah,’ Maggie says softly. ‘I’m sorry anyway.’

‘Why? I could have just told you instead of bullshitting about whether you needed me to bring stuff back here.’

‘I’m your…’ she cuts herself off. ‘It’s always been us. I should have known.’

Daryl scoffs. ‘Not being able to spot the bullshit from a hundred miles away doesn’t make you a bad mom, ya know? Takes a Dixon to know a Dixon,’ Daryl leans down to kiss Hershel’s cheek, ‘ain’t that right, little man?’

Maggie doesn’t say anything at first. She’s studying him with misty eyes, smiling when he manages to make his little brother giggle by pretending to eat his nose. ‘You look happy.’

‘Am,’ the teenager says. ‘I had a good time at Washington. Despite, ya know… missin’ home something fierce. Mason got a good thing going there.’

‘Was your mystery letter-writing friend home?’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl grins. A blush rises from his neck to his cheeks. ‘His name is Taiwo. I invited him to the harvest festival.’ He rubs at his nose. ‘He wanted to come meet y’all now, but… Like- _I_ ain’t easy to get, but all of this?’ He waves at the rest of the Colony. ‘Good luck to him.’

Maggie laughs. ‘I’m glad you invited him at least. I’d like to meet him.’ Her head tilts to the side. ‘Did you tell Rick about him?’

‘Yeah… Kinda had to,’ Daryl rolls his eyes and tugs his scarf down to reveal the fading hickey. ‘I forgot about it, like an idiot. Was like Tara ‘nd Rosita smelled blood, fuckin’ sharks. Trouble, those two, done told ya.’ He pushes the scarf back in place. ‘Just told Rick ‘nd Mich though. Carl already knew. Told Beth.’

‘I’m glad,’ Maggie says softly.

‘Ain’t a secret worth keepin’,’ Daryl shrugs.

‘I bet Rick was glad you told him, too. He has hated how things have been between you two.’

‘Weren’t on me,’ Daryl mutters immediately. He can practically feel his hackles raise beneath his skin. ‘He’s wrong about Negan. I don’t care that the communities are gettin’ along for the most part, or that the saviors worked out fine here. I don’t care. He’s wrong about him, and he should have let me take the shot.’

Maggie looks away.

‘You think I’m right, but you don’t wanna say it. That’s fine. Y’all have been trying real hard, but you ain’t ever going to fix that part of my brain. I will get him, one day.’ Daryl shifts Hershel in his lap so he’s more comfortable. He smiles. ‘Right, baby boy?’

 

 

‘Y’all call this  _before_ sundown now?’ Daryl runs over towards the barn. The workers have returned from the watermill they’re testing out. Wrapped in extra coats and blankets, but their eyes shine brightly thanks to the many torches. Some are just jumping down from their horses, one already leads hers towards the stable, eager to get out of the cold.

‘Daryl!’ Paul lets his horse turn in a tight circle before he jumps down, face lighting up at the sight of the teenager.

‘Hey man,’ Daryl grins but he runs past the scout. ‘Yo, asshole! You call this _before_ sundown?’

Merle slides out of his saddle and laughs. ‘Now, now, monster, calm your titties! You’re starting to sound like your old man.’

‘Sound like _you_ whenever I come back from hunting too late!’

‘Same difference,’ Merle grins. He grunts when his little brother hugs him, wraps his arms around the broad shoulders and tugs him closer still. ‘Good to see you, brother. Everything okay? No trouble on the road, right?’

‘Nothing I couldn’t deal with. What about you? You’re late!’

‘Nothing I couldn’t deal with.’ Merle gives him another tight squeeze before pretending to put a hand on his lower back, grimacing. ‘You gonna help your big brother with his horse now?’

‘You lazy piece of shit,’ Daryl laughs but he grabs the reins anyway and leads the horse towards the barn. ‘You better help!’

‘Sure, sure.’ Merle saunters after him, hands in his pockets and a big grin on his face.

Together, they get the saddle off and equipment cleaned. Daryl brushes the horse down while Merle inspects their feet for any signs of wear or tear. They talk about the mill, how it’s coming together and seems to be working fine. Despite the new power source, Merle hasn’t been too thrilled about the whole project. The mill is far from Alexandria and Hilltop. Either they leave it unattended, or it will become another outpost.

‘Spreadin’ us out thin, brother,’ Merle mutters. ‘Ain’t worth the trouble, I keep sayin’. Nobody listens to old Merle.’

‘Maggie does,’ Daryl says with a roll of his eyes. ‘Paul and Kal do. Rick. You’re just wrong, man. Spoutin’ bullshit like usual.’ He laughs when his brother gives him a playful shove.

‘That’s how it is, huh? Ain’t doing shit no more,’ Merle grumbles as he sits down on the little stool in the corner. ‘Well, I’ll shut the fuck up then. You tell me some stories now. How was Washington?’

Daryl’s grip on the brush tightens. He ducks his head and goes back to work. ‘Good – yeah. I had a good time. Mason wouldn’t let me visit other sites though, so I still don’t know a lot about those.’

Merle hums. ‘Ain’t no surprise. That Mason-guy sounds like a smart man. Has to be, to be keepin’ shit together in all of this.’ He seems to think for a moment. ‘He treated you okay though?’

‘Yeah, great. No complaints.’ Daryl feels his brother’s gaze on him and pretends not to notice. The horse shifts nervously on his feet, sensing the changing mood in the teenager.

‘That right, huh,’ Merle says softly. ‘If anything ha-‘

‘He’s all done,’ Daryl says quickly as he kisses the horse’s neck and pushes it gently towards the food bucket so he can head to the exit. ‘Let’s go, me ‘nd Maggie and all waited for you with dinner, jack-ass. I’m starving.’

Merle grabs his upper arm and yanks him close. ‘If anyone did anything to you-‘

‘Nah, man,’ Daryl mumbles as he gives his brother a shove to be free again. ‘Nothing like that. Just… I’ll tell you later.’

‘Tell me _what_ later?’ Merle hisses as they walk out of the barn together.

‘Good lord. The thing! The thing that happened, I’ll tell you later.’

Merle clips him across the back of his head. ‘You think I’m stupid now? I want to know what the thing is, boy!’

‘Leave me alone, I mean it,’ Daryl snaps. He quickly runs up the couple of steps to Barrington House to burst into the hall. Some of the guards head to the dining hall or living room to get warm, but he heads up the stairs and doesn’t look back to see whether Merle is following him. The heavy footfalls behind him are telling enough.

Everyone has gathered in Maggie’s bedroom. Aaron is reading a story to Hershel who looks to be already asleep, Beth is talking to Alex and Enid. They’re sitting on the floor, perching on blankets and pillows like they would have done out on the road. There’s a stack of plates.

‘Dare!’ Enid jumps up and hugs him. ‘Maggie is getting the food.’

‘Ah damn, we could have gotten it. I thought it was already up here.’

‘Pretty sure Jesus is helping her,’ Alex tells him. ‘He hasn’t turned up yet, so I guess he’s downstairs somewhere.’

‘Oh, okay,’ Daryl mutters and then wobbles on his feet. He glances at his brother, who is still studying him. ‘Got a smoke to share?’

‘Yeah,’ Merle says immediately. ‘Get your ass outside.’

They sit on the balcony with their legs dangling over the edge. It’s cold and dark. They can see shadows walking on the wall, their spears catching the moonlight when they turn and change direction. The world is quiet now that everyone is settling down for the night.

‘Spit it out before I make ya,’ Merle mutters, eyes dark.

Daryl lights a cigarette and inhales deeply before blowing the smoke between them. He licks his lips and fidgets. ‘Okay. So… ain’t a big deal or nothing. Just – I told Maggie ‘nd Rick – because you were still at the mill right? I couldn’t tell you first, so…’

Merle takes the cigarette from him. ‘Still waiting…’

‘I got a boyfriend.’

Merle blinks.

‘In Washington. That’s why I stayed a while.’

Merle frowns.

Daryl stares at his boots.

‘ _That’s_ _it_?’ Merle sounds incredulous. ‘You got me all worried and it turns out that there’s someone out there willing to suck that dick of yours. That’s it? Goddamn, monster. Christ.’ Merle rubs a hand over his face. ‘Thought Mason turned out to be a psycho after all or something. Last time you had to stay at a place that long, it weren’t on your fucking terms. Shit.’

Daryl shoots his brother a grim smile. ‘Nothing like that, man.’

Merle passes the cigarette back. ‘So… a boyfriend, huh?’

‘Yeah. His name is Taiwo.’

‘What kinda funky-ass name is that?’

Daryl stomps his brother.

‘Kiddin’,’ Merle leers but the smile fades into something that almost seems nervous. ‘So…’ he scratches at his chin, ‘what the fuck do you ask about boyfriends?’

‘Same things you would have asked about girlfriends.’

Merle lifts an eyebrow. ‘He got big tits?’

Daryl chokes on the smoke. ‘What the fuck, man? You’re crazy! I hate you. I ain’t ever talkin’ to you again.’

‘Ahw come on,’ Merle laughs. ‘Figures that you’re more of an ass guy. Each their own, brother. To each their own.’ He grabs Daryl by his neck and drags him close, tugging him under his arm. ‘Is he sweet, huh? He sweet on you?’

Daryl throws the cigarette away and tries to punch Merle in the stomach. ‘Stop!’ he laughs, ‘we’re done talkin’ about this.’

‘Tell me,’ Merle demands, trapping his brother in an embrace while trying to press kisses to his cheek like he would do with Hershel, ‘is my baby boy finally gettin’ some loving? I leave you alone for two seconds and you go and find yourself a city slicker. Show me a drawing of him. _Come on_ ,’ Merle teases, ‘you probably already have a whole collection of him. Keep the naked ones, man. Show me the PG shit.’

‘Maggie!’ Daryl cries out when he sees the door open. He struggles against his brother. ‘Maggie,  _please_!’

Maggie’s eyes go wide with fear at first, she steps into the room quickly but relaxes when she sees that he’s laughing and not really fighting his brother. She rolls her eyes. ‘Get in here, Dixons.’

‘Yes ma’am!’ they both reply.

‘Do I need to hold you down, shake you till your teeth rattle, boy?’ Merle growls into his ear.

‘They’re in my notebook,’ Daryl laughs. ‘I’ll show you! Stop, I’ll show you!’

‘Mercy?’

‘Mercy!’ Daryl nods. He’s panting and feels happier than he’s done in months and months. He turns around and hugs his brother tightly.

‘Whoa,’ Merle snorts, catching him easily.

‘I love you,’ Daryl mutters into his shoulder.

‘Yeah, yeah. Now get your ass inside. I thought you were starvin’.’

 

 

For the first time in forever, Khamsin behaves while he puts the saddle on her back. She stands perfectly still and lets him adjust the straps, not even threatening to give him a kick when he tightens them around her belly. She hates the feeling and seems to enjoy giving every stable hand a fright.

Daryl checks the saddlebags one last time and then grabs her reins. ‘You ready, gorgeous?’

Her ears flick back and forth.

‘Let’s go.’

There’s a group of five riders waiting at the gate. Daryl hoists himself up on Khamsin’s back, stroking her neck soothingly and one hand twisting in the reins to contain her excitement of heading out into the world with him. He looks back at Barrington House.

Maggie and Merle are standing on the porch.

He raises his hand.

Merle dips his chin.

Maggie waves back.

‘Easy does it, girl,’ Daryl mutters under his breath. ‘We ain’t scared of _nothing_.’ He clacks his tongue and Khamsin jumps forward. She weaves through the group of riders to get to the front. One of the riders looks up, eyes going wide.

‘Dare, no…’

‘Thought I’d let you go alone? Nah, girl.’

‘You _just_ got back. Maggie-’

‘Will see us soon,’ Daryl nods. He looks at his sister. ‘Besides, I know the way around, right?’

‘Don’t,’ Beth says softly.

Daryl shifts in his saddle. He works his jaw. ‘I want my lighter back.’

‘Dare…’

The gates open.

Daryl digs his heels into Khamsin’s side but she barely needs any direction. She jumps forward onto the wide open road, unbothered by the cold and wind. She starts running and he doesn’t hold her back. Hooves on frozen earth, pounding loud like drums to a familiar, far too cheerful, beat.

 

 


	38. Legacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> L i s t e n. It's Super Winter Time now, which means Amsterdam is five days behind all of you.. or just my house if you're in Amsterdam too. It's called Time Zones. So... I'm NOT five days late. How dare you. Rude. 
> 
> (Sorry!)

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

‘What’s wrong?’

Daryl is standing on a rock to overlook the dried-up riverbed down below. The snow has turned into a plaque of ice over the last couple of nights. It has preserved the tracks of everything that has taken this route through the forest. Deer, foxes, a couple of rabbits. Almost all of those marks have been covered by the tracks of a herd. Not too big, about thirty walkers. They passed here not too long ago.

Kal jumps up onto the rock next to the youngest Dixon. ‘Hey, I said: what’s wrong?’

Daryl gestures to the tracks. His cigarette leaves white smoke trailing in the still air. ‘Something weird about that herd. Animal tracks zigzag, right? They go all over the place because most are searching for food. They’re just ambling about. Walkers do that too, in a way. They follow sounds and smells.’

‘So?’

‘Why’s they walkin’ in a straight line?’ Daryl murmurs as he gestures down to the tracks again. ‘Would make sense if they were actually walkin’ down the riverbed, but they’re crossing it. Ain’t the road of least resistance.’

‘How do you know they weren’t following a deer or whatever? Maybe they heard a couple of birds up in the trees.’

‘Maybe,’ Daryl says as he smokes his cigarette.

‘We should get moving.’ Kal looks at his boots before speaking again. ‘You know I’ll look after her, right? Beth. It can’t be easy for you to go back th-’

‘You’re right.’ Daryl throws his cigarette into the snow and whistles sharply to get Khamsin’s attention. ‘We should get movin’.’ He claps Kal on the shoulder before walking over to his horse. With a grunt, he pulls himself up into the saddle, his feet finding the stirrups easily.

The other riders mount their horses as well. At the back of the group, Beth chats with one of the guards. Blonde hair peeking out from under her hat, cheeks red from the cold. Tall and proud on her black horse, one hand holding her reins, the other a dirty knife. All the way here, she rode on the side, weaving through the forest to prevent any stray walkers from stumbling onto the road and frightening the horses carrying the supplies.

When she feels her brother’s gaze on her, Beth waves at him.

Daryl nods back. His gaze shifts to Kal, who drifts over to her, glances back at the Dixon before whispering something. Daryl sighs and leans down to give Khamsin some loving. It doesn’t surprise him that Beth appears beside him a couple of minutes later.

Beth brushes some of her blonde hair out of her face. She glances over her shoulder and then looks at her brother. ‘The guys are worried about you so they wanted me to ride next to you.’

‘ _Greene_!’ Kal hisses behind her.

Daryl laughs. ‘That right, huh?’

‘Yes. So, are you doin’ okay?’

‘Yeah girl,’ Daryl grins. ‘I’m doin’ a’right.’

‘Good.’ She shifts in her saddle. ‘He’s _fine_ , Kal. Let’s go!’ Her heels dig into the flanks of her horse and Daryl doesn’t even need to alert Khamsin.

They ride and talk about the weather. Of course they both prefer long summer days but they agree that going skiing would have been pretty cool. Neither of them has ever been, but Beth laughs while she imagines him on skis and he admits that he probably wouldn’t have been very good at it. He tries to convince her that he could have been a snowboarder, in every faded magazine and every movie they’d looked like a pretty cool crowd. He quickly changes his mind when Beth explains that his feet would be locked onto the board.

She tells him about the Olympics and how he would have probably rocked the biathlon scene. He doesn’t remember the event but smiles when she tells stories about watching the ice skaters in the middle of the night due to the time difference. Wrapped in warm blankets, hands around some hot tea and eyes glued to the screen. It’s easy to imagine her like that.

 ‘We should hold the Olympics and one event would just be; crossbow, and I’d win,’ Daryl grins.

‘That’s cheating.’

‘Why’s that cheatin’? I’m just the best!’

‘Cocky!’ Beth laughs even though everyone knows it’s true. ‘You can’t alter an event just so you can win it. That’s cheating. There used to be an archery competition during the summer Olympics though! It was with…’ she mimics shooting a bow.

‘Compound bows? Yeah, I remember watching that, I think. Kinda boring when the target ain’t moving, but yeah… we can’t do that though,’ he says. ‘I haven’t shot a compound in a long time so someone will probably school my ass. I want to win! I’ve never won anything before!’

‘You’ve never won _anything_?’

Daryl shrugs. ‘Nah. What?’ he shoots her a grin. ‘You thought I aced those spelling bee’s or something?’

‘No!’ The skin around Beth’s blue eyes wrinkles because of her smile.

Daryl pretends to be wounded. He folds a gloved hand over his heart.

Beth laughs. ‘Poor baby boy. Did you ever get a participation trophy at least?’

‘I did! It was for some kind of track ‘nd field bullshit thing, I don’t really remember. But I got a medal, ‘nd I ran home to show dad, I was so fuckin’ proud I’d gotten a medal, right? Merle ‘nd dad weren’t impressed. At all. They thought it was so fucking stupid.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl laughs. ‘They made me show it all of the neighbors. Like all them people in the trailer park? Hmm. At first I thought they were just so fuckin’ proud, right? So I knocked and showed everyone my damn medal. And Will would holler; guess what he got it for! Fastest runner? Nah. Most laps? Nah. Third place at least? Nah. _Participatin’_.’ The smile slowly fades from his face. ‘Felt kinda stupid about it afterwards.’

 Beth doesn’t say anything.

‘It was kinda mean of them, now that I think about it,’ Daryl says while wrinkling his nose.

‘Kinda mean?’ Beth repeats. ‘It was a dick move of them.’

‘Dad once took me out camping to teach me huntin’ ‘nd everything. I shot a rabbit on the second day. I gave him one of the feet ‘cause it’s supposed to be lucky but he made me keep it myself. Said he were already lucky ‘cause he had me.’

Beth looks at him for a second. ‘I know you love him. You don’t have to…’ she waves a hand in his general direction, ‘excuse him, justify anything, level the bullshit with the sweet –whatever it is you’re doing. I get it. Hey,’ she catches his eye and her voice becomes gentler, ‘ _I get it_.’

Daryl nods. ‘I know. Just… If I start talkin’ shit about him too, there won’t be nobody who ever says anything good about him.’

His sister seems to swallow her initial response. ‘Yeah,’ she says instead. Her fingers scratch at the reins she’s holding. ‘I didn’t know your daddy too well. We didn’t think you were Shane’s, you were still…’ Beth smiles, ‘daddy said you reminded him of an angry wet kitten when you got to the farm. Still shaky on them legs, but you had sharp nails for sure.’

Daryl ducks his head to hide his smile.

‘The second I saw Will Dixon? I knew. You don’t look like him, but the second we saw you with him? We knew he was your daddy.’ She huffs out a breath of laughter and shakes her head. ‘We hated him.’

Daryl bites on his lower lip.

‘Hey,’ Beth shoots him a small smile. ‘He stayed. Everyone hated his guts but he stayed for you. He could have just dropped you off inside the gates, or could have dragged your little ass half-way across the country to get away from us, but he let you come home and he stayed with you. That was good of him.’

‘Yeah. It was.’

‘And he helped me with Judith that one time, remember that? He was a baby whisperer, just like you!’

Daryl smiles. ‘Right.’

Beth grins. ‘See?’ she says. ‘Not all bad.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Still a fucking asshole though.’

Daryl laughs. He leans down to pat Khamsin’s neck, tweaking her ear before sitting back in his saddle. He looks at his sister, who is so like and unlike him that it still makes his head spin every day. The smile fades. ‘Hey,’ he says to get her to look at him. ‘I’m glad you’re here.’

‘I’m glad you’re here too.’ She pulls her scarf higher, covering her nose and cheeks. Hands grip her reins tightly as she digs her heels into the flank of her horse, urging him to speed up. ‘Race you there!’

‘That’s cheatin’!’ Daryl shouts but she doesn’t hold back. He curses and shifts in his saddle, ‘Kal, take the front! We’ll meet you there!’ He gives Khamsin free reins and lowers himself in the saddle, ‘go, go go!’

 

 

it’s strange to see the Sanctuary in this light. It’s just past midday, the ground is covered with snow but the sun is out in full force. It almost feels like a warm day despite their breath turning into smoke the second it rolls over their chapped lips. There are hardly any clouds. The sky is blue.

Daryl is standing next to Khamsin. His cheek pressed against her warm neck, hand rubbing soothing circles on the other side as he holds her close. They watch how smoke rises from various places. Out near the gates where it keeps the guards warm. Somewhere further north, maybe another guard post. From the chimneys of the factory. Flickering lights tell him that several fires are roaring inside the walls to keep it warm.

The guards must have seen him but they haven’t reacted yet. He’s standing on the bridge, waiting for the rest of his group. Despite Beth’s head start, he has left them all in a cloud of dust. He looks back at the black building and supposes there are downsides to having the fastest horse after all.

The gates suddenly open.

Daryl straightens, one hand going for his gun.

It’s easy to recognize Frankie. Even all bundled up, he recognizes her easy grace. Tall and lean, red hear spilling out from under her black hat. There’s a cleaver hanging from her belt. It shines in the winter sun. One gloved hand is brought up to shield her eyes. She’s smiling. ‘Daryl!’ she calls out and then picks up her pace, almost running towards him. ‘Oh, it really is you – oh my gosh.’

Daryl nods and twists his hand in Khamsin’s leather reins. ‘Yeah,’ he says as he looks at her boots. ‘The others are a little ways behind me. They’ll be here soon.’

Frankie looks like she wants to surge forward and give him a hug but she just stops in front of him, breathing harder and with flushed cheeks. ‘It’s good to see you.’

Daryl kicks his boots together.

‘Do you want to come in and get warm? There are stables ready for your horses –we have food and water for them, of course.’ She watches how he throws a look over his shoulder, eyes scanning the forest anxiously. ‘Or we can wait here for your friends.’

‘Yeah,’ he says quickly. ‘We’ll wait.’

Frankie’s smile doesn’t falter but she still looks sad. ‘Of course.’

There’s an awkward silence. Daryl curses himself for not at least staying out of sight or waiting down the road for the others but he’d been too caught up in Khamsin’s obvious joy at being able to go as fast as she could to pay any mind to the fact that Beth wouldn’t have been able to keep up. He hopes she fell back to the group to ride together at least. Safety in numbers.

He looks at Khamsin and bites on his lip. She shouldn’t be out in this cold doing nothing for much longer. She worked up a sweat running that hard, it’s cooling on her coat and she could get sick.

‘Never mind.’ Daryl glances at Frankie. ‘Let’s head inside, get her settled.’

The woman looks surprised. ‘Sure. The stables are on the left side now.’ She falls into step beside him. ‘Have you been back at all, since…?’

‘I was here months ago, before winter,’ Daryl mutters. ‘We had to stop to drop off supplies. Never went inside. High-tailed outta here quick as I could.’ He chews on the inside of his cheek. ‘Rick told me people are giving Dwight trouble over me.’

‘We can handle it,’ Frankie says softly. She pushes a strand of red hair behind her ear. ‘I know you hate coming here. I understand.’ She seems to hesitate for a second. ‘Have you been to see him? How is he?’

The teenager shakes his head. ‘No. I don’t know.’

‘But he’s alive?’

‘Yes.’

Frankie looks at him. ‘Did he get the books I’ve-‘

‘I _don’t know_ ,’ Daryl says sharply. ‘Go ask Rick or Michonne.’

‘They won’t let me see him. They won’t tell me anything!’

‘I can’t help you.’

‘You could ask them – you could talk to them. If I could just visit every once-‘

‘Are you fucking stupid? Slow?’ Daryl asks as he stops walking. He glares at her. ‘I’m not going to ask them anything. I don’t want to know anything about him, don’t want to hear how he’s still alive, whether he’s loving that fucking cell of his, whether he’s reading fucking books to kill time. You don’t want me thinking about him, _trust me_. ‘cause if I do, I’ll be thinkin’ about ways to kill his ass instead of helping his wife to get his dick wet. You hear me? I ain’t on your side with this.’

Frankie wraps her arms around her waist. ‘I thought we were friends. Friends help each other.’

‘I’ve helped you plenty,’ Daryl says before he clacks his tongue to get Khamsin to move again. ‘You’re still alive. Do you know how many people wanted his wives’ heads on spikes afterwards? I told them you’d been good to me, and you have been. I’m thankful for that. It doesn’t mean I have to do you any favors now though. We’re even.’ When he looks over his shoulder, he sees Beth and the others riding over the bridge. A smile tugs the corner of his mouth up. He looks at Frankie. ‘Last time we saw each other, I was still all kinds of fucked up. I’m better now. But I’m warning ya; stop _pushing_.’

‘Daryl, I’m sorry.’

‘Sure.’ He pulls one eyelid down and sticks his tongue out at Beth, who’s close now. ‘Slowpoke.’

‘Let’s do it again but on foot,’ Beth challenges.

‘Nope! You can’t change the rules just to win, you were naggin’ about that earlier, ya goddamn hypocrite,’ he laughs and reaches out to squeeze her calf, ‘but good try. Good try.’

‘Welcome to the sanctuary.’

Daryl wipes his nose on the back of his hand. ‘Beth, you remember Frankie?’ he introduces the rest of the group. Kal and the other soldiers look wary while the ones who never been here gaze at the large factory with wide eyes. ‘I’m sure we’ll get a tour later. Let’s get the horses settled.’

 

 

He’s not scared. It’s the first thing that strikes him when he walks into the large factory hall half an hour later. He’s not scared at all. Weird shadows dance over walls and windows, fires roar inside the big furnace but he’s used to all that. Memories slink to the foreground of his mind, coating everything that now is with how it was. Shadows of him and Carl watching a man get marked for being with his ex-wife. Trailing after Negan’s heavy footsteps while walking their usual rounds. Following Fat Joey and sneaking away just to annoy the man who was supposed to guard him. Walking with the wives to his room after their dinners at Negan’s quarters. Up there is the railing he liked to sit on to observe the big meetings Negan used to have. He broke on the steps right there in the corner and was carried away by the leader.

Beth is scared. She reaches out and holds Daryl’s hand.

He brushes his thumb over the back soothingly.

It’s busy in the hall. The air is filled with the rich scent of dinner that’s almost ready. The long tables filled with hungry workers. Their voices echo in the large room which make them sound like a whole army. Further back, Daryl can see the market place where he got his hat and other trinkets he’d liked at the time.

The room quiets when they enter.

Kal’s fingers curl around his spear and the other soldiers step closer.

They walk past the tables. Gazes linger on them. Heads swivel while murmurs pick up and whispers fill the air. Daryl can hear bits and pieces. It’s mostly about him, of course. Everyone here knows him, if not from him staying here then from every battle during the war. He recognizes soldiers, people who used to work out in the fields, the woman in charge of the vehicles and the worker who had once pointed him the way back to his cell. A guy who Negan had made fun of because he was shit at ping-pong. A woman who hadn’t been allowed to play anymore because she’d been better than the leader.

Dwight is waiting for them at one of the last tables. He stands when they approach. ‘Welcome to the Sanctuary,’ he tells Beth, ‘I’m glad you’re here, doctor Greene.’

‘Just Beth is fine,’ she says while shaking his hand. ‘I’m glad I can help. Are there any urgent cases that need immediate attention?’

‘No,’ Dwight motions for them to take a seat at the large table. ‘Sores, coughs that won’t go away, infections – nothing that can’t wait until after dinner. We’ve compiled a list of people we’d like you to see. Women and children first, of course.’

Daryl sits next to Beth and listens to the conversation while scanning the room. People hurriedly turn away when he looks their way. It doesn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. His hatred for every Savior has started to bleed away. The ones at Hilltop are working out fine and Oceanside hasn’t reported any troubles either. Besides the failed attack on Maggie, no big incidents have occurred.

These saviors aren’t looking at him with any malice in their eyes. Maybe he’d expected that, maybe that’s why he’d felt the need to keep an eye on Beth. Just like how the Saviors murdered his friends and family members, they have done the same. A lot of people died during the war, on both sides. He would have understood a less warm welcome, but the people seem to be happy to see him.

A boy is staring at him with huge eyes.

Daryl sticks his tongue out.

The boy giggles.

‘The infirmary is in the west wing, the doctor’s office was already there and the cells are good for private rooms, the room was empty after–‘ Dwight’s gaze suddenly snaps to Daryl. ‘I’m sorry.’

Beth frowns and looks at her brother.

Daryl works his jaw for a moment. ‘The room was empty after I’d left, he meant to say. I stayed in one of the cells at first but got a room when I started to behave. Negan gave it to me, used to joke that it was far away from his room so I wouldn’t have to listen to mommy and daddy bangin’.’ He shrugs. ‘It’s a good room for the infirmary. Big.’

‘I’d like to see it after dinner, please,’ Beth tells Dwight. ‘I want to set up and start seeing people right away.’

‘We appreciate it.’

Daryl leans on his elbows. ‘Which rooms are ours?’

Dwight looks at his fingernails. ‘Second floor, workers quarters.’

Daryl nods and looks away. He knows those rooms, too. They’re furthest away from Negan’s quarters. ‘Thank you.’

‘Sure.’

Beth shifts in her seat nervously. ‘We can share, right?’ she asks Daryl.

‘Everyone is doubling up,’ the Dixon tells her. ‘Of course we’re sharin’.’

‘Good,’ she smiles. Her eyes go wide when a group of workers stops by their table, but they only deliver bowls and plates with food. The rations are small, barely enough to fill them up. Barely any vegetables. It reminds Daryl of the food they used to eat out on the road, after the farm. One of the women puts a plate down in front of Daryl.

‘Enjoy, little prince,’ she says. ‘It’s good to see you.’

Daryl digs his fingernails into the palm of his hand. ‘Thank you. And you.’

The woman smiles and moves on. Beth reaches for his knee under the table and squeezes.

‘Sorry it ain’t much,’ Dwight murmurs. He pushes some potatoes around on his half-empty plate. ‘Rations.’

‘It’s plenty,’ Kal assures him.

The rest of the conversation flows past Daryl. He hardly listens while Kal discusses the news from Hilltop Colony, barely pays attention when Beth questions Frankie about the medical supplies. Most of what they’ve brought has already been taken down to the infirmary and Beth can’t wait to get started.

‘I’ll show you to your rooms,’ Dwight says when dinner is done.

‘We’ll head to the infirmary, check it out,’ Daryl says as he stands up and reaches for Beth’s hand.

‘It’s okay, I can show them the way,’ Frankie says when Dwight opens his mouth to object.

‘I know the way,’ Daryl says. ‘Let’s go, Beth.’

Together, they walk through the long corridors of the Sanctuary. They pass people who seem shocked to see him in this part of the complex but also a couple of people who hurry out of their way, eyes downcast and arms wrapped around themselves. Scared, maybe. The nickname is whispered behind his back or in greeting, though some have the decency to look unsure about whether or not to use it.

Beth is worrying her lower lip. She breaks the silence eventually. ‘Is it strange being back here for you?’

‘I hate that I know the way,’ Daryl answers truthfully. ‘I was always a prisoner but I somehow stopped thinking of it like that after a while. I could go anywhere, except outside.’ They walk down a staircase and end up in the part of the building he hates.

Beth peeks into a room as they walk past the open door. ‘He gave you the room that’s now the infirmary, right?’

‘Yeah. First couple of weeks they kept me in here though,’ Daryl turns left and walks to his cell. The door is open. It’s used as a storage room now. ‘There was nothing here. Bare walls. I was… they’d taken my clothes ‘nd shit. Made me piss and shit in a bucket while the guards watched. Gave me dogfood sandwiches.’

Beth squeezes his hand.

‘They had this picture of Glenn’s bashed in skull taped to my wall. Made me look at it for days on end. I thought I could hold out, ya know? But they kept playing this song so I couldn’t sleep, ‘nd I was always so goddamn cold, ‘nd… I just couldn’t do it.’

‘I’m so sorry, Dare.’

‘Yeah. Me, too. Some fucked up shit,’ Daryl says softly before tucking her further down the hallway towards the infirmary.

 

 

It’s nearing midnight when they head to their room. Daryl’s exhausted even though he hasn’t done much but sit in a corner for the better part of the night. The closest thing the Sanctuary has had as a doctor had been a student who once had completed a first-aid course. Beth had wasted no time to start cleaning infected wounds, cutting away flesh that had been dead for a long time and replacing crude stitches made with wrong techniques and equipment. Medicine distributed, wounds assessed, and antibiotics prescribed. By midnight, Beth’s cheeks were glowing from exhaustion and she finally admitted to needing rest.

‘Last one on the right, she said,’ Daryl whispers as they walk down the corridor.

‘Here it is,’ Beth pushes the door open and heads inside. ‘Do you think – _oh my God_!’

Daryl grabs her shoulder and drags her to the side while grabbing his knife, ‘what? What is it? Wh-‘ he falls silent. All the candles have been lit. The soft light illuminates the small room. There’s a double bed that takes up most of the space. There are worn-out rugs on the floor to keep the chill away. Heavy curtains have been draped in front of the only window and several blankets have been piled onto the bed.

‘Shit,’ Beth breathes, eyes wide with panic. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know why it scared me so much – it’s just… I’m sorry. _Shit_.’

On the bed rests a barbed-wire bat.

‘Why would someone leave that here?’ Beth asks as she wipes a hand over her face. ‘Good lord. That’s… that’s cruel. Well, if they wanted to scare us, it worked.’

‘I don’t think it’s a threat.’

Beth looks at him, ‘what?’

‘Know what’s fucked up about this?’ Daryl asks as he walks towards the bed. ‘I know it ain’t Lucille.’

‘Negan’s bat was lost. Nobody knows where it went, it could-‘

‘It ain’t her,’ Daryl insists. He grabs hold of the bat and it feels all wrong. Too light. The wood has a different hue to it and no damage at all. Lucille had small cracks in the wood from splitting Glenn’s skull, Negan would go on and on about it, showing it to him while cleaning the blood of walkers off her. How he’d dared to hurt her like that. Good thing he weren’t alive no more or he’d regret it. ‘He used to make me carry her around this place. First to fuck me up, ‘nd it just became a habit after that. I didn’t even mind that much anymore.’

Beth looks sad.

‘It made me feel safer even, to carry her on my shoulder. A true prince of the Sanctuary,’ he says with a wry smile. ‘He gave me that nickname. My dad used to call me a little king but he didn’t like that. Said _he_ were the king. I could be his prince. The kid he never had,’ Daryl says before swinging the bat, hitting nothing but air. ‘Asshole.’

‘I’ve never heard you talk about all that before,’ Beth says softly as she sits down on the bed.

‘All kinds of people know all kinds of things about that time,’ Daryl answers. ‘Merle knows most. Rick ‘nd Paul. I was too ashamed to tell Maggie. At first I thought it was all my fault – everything that happened in the forest, everything that happened here. Later I thought that what happened here weren’t that bad at all. I got to eat ice cream. I carried his bat. He taught me how to play ping-pong. How do you say that to your mom who had to watch her husband die like he did?’

Beth draws her feet onto the bed and loops her arms around her knees.

Daryl lets the bat roll in his hand before gripping it tightly. ‘There are people here who want Negan back. And if they can’t have him, they want the next best thing.’

‘His son,’ Beth whispers.

‘Yeah.’

‘It’s not who you are. It was never you.’

Daryl lowers the bat. ‘Let’s get some sleep.’

‘Dare-‘

‘Please stop,’ the teenager says. ‘I don’t want to talk about it anymore.’

Beth closes her eyes. It takes her a long time but she gets up, locks the door and puts her gun on the nightstand. Jacket, vest, hoodie gone, boots neatly put under the bed. Daryl carefully puts the bat on a cabinet and kicks his own boots under his nightstand.

An hour later, Beth finally falls asleep.

Daryl stares at the ceiling. He’s not scared, but he still can’t sleep.

 

 

Breakfast is in full swing. There’s steam rising from the kitchens. People are talking and laughing, teenagers run between the tables to talk to their friends before their chores. Plates and cups get passed around, the legs of chairs scrape over concrete when people sit down and get up, doors open and close while people file in or head out. The market place is opening up and people bargain for lower prices for their hoodies and coats. Points get traded away for luxury items since people no longer have to hand them over for rations. A child bursts into tears over not getting a hunting knife that’s bigger than their entire arm, another tries to make a deal with a vendor about lessons being included with a bow.

Then, a familiar sound cuts through it all.

Heavy boots on the metal staircase. The chilling noise of metal on metal, barbed-wire scraping and grinding on the handrails until the bat is swung up again to land on a broad leather-clad shoulder. Black boots, light jeans, his leather jacket. The scarf is green instead of red. Dark hair is mostly hidden by a baseball cap. Blue eyes so cold that it causes people to shiver.

Daryl slowly walks down the steps. Twists the bat on his shoulder, let’s the side of his mouth curl up in a smile that causes some guys and girls to go weak in the knees.

Everyone falls silent and stares.

Beth looks horrified. Kal sick.

Daryl starts to whistle. It’s a song that causes Dwight to cringe and guards to freeze. A happy melody. One that never leaves you. The bat rolls off his shoulder easily and he inspects it while he walks towards their table. Everyone watches his every move.

He stops next to Beth and holds out his hand. ‘I need it now, but I’ll give it back to you.’

Beth seems confused for a second but then rummages through her pockets. She hands Will’s lighter over.

‘Thanks.’ Daryl walks over to one of the burn barrels. He looks around the room and flicks the zippo lighter open. The flame licks at the wood hungrily, teasingly, before finally sinking its teeth in it. The wood starts to crack as the flames catch, growing bolder and warmer, illuminating the young man’s face. The barbed wire glows red. He throws the bat into the barrel to burn to ashes.

‘For anyone who’s confused about who the hell I am.’

 

 

 


	39. This place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional chapter warning: references to self-harm

 

* * *

 

 

 

The wall is covered with names. The wood had been painted black before the names were written down with white paint. Some neatly printed, others written in cursive, some names just angry slashes, barely readable. There’s a Joey on there. It could have been Fat Joey, but Daryl can’t be sure. He recognizes other names but doesn’t know whether they match the faces he sees in his mind’s eye.

Most communities have some sort of memorial site. Alexandria’s wall was burned down during the war, the metal too charred to be able to read the names and he’s pretty sure nobody had updated the list during the war anyway. The Kingdom has a field of flowers where no animals are allowed to graze. Mourners pick flowers whenever they need to. Oceanside has a fire burning in one of the huts that never goes out. Whenever someone dies, their name is carved into a log and devoured by fire. Hilltop Colony is the only one that doesn’t have a specific site. The memories of their loved ones are carried by the living, though Daryl has always suspected that Paul keeps a record somewhere. A list of names hidden in one of his books.

‘You’re not welcome here.’

Daryl looks up to see a woman sitting against the wall. Long hair matted and dirty, cheeks hallow and eyes sunken. Her dark clothes are torn and ratty, the blanket barely enough to keep her warm in this weather. Skeleton hands are wrapped around a bottle of wine. It has stained her lips red.

She’s not looking at him. Eyes on the snow at her feet. Lips move even before she speaks. ‘You did this.’

Daryl looks at the wall and then around them. He’d wandered over here to escape the prying eyes for just a moment. Beth is busy checking children, weighing them and making them stick out their tongues while making silly noises. The small ones hide behind their parents or guardian’s legs, and teenager boys blush when she asks them to lift their shirts so she can check their lungs and heartbeats. Kal is still in the room with her, but Daryl had started to feel like he was in the way. Nobody had so much as given Beth a stink-eye the entire morning. Maybe it helps that she hadn’t been a part of any battle. Instead, she’d stayed at home and had dealt with the horrors of war there.

Once he’d had to be treated for a minor wound. He remembers sitting on Alex’s examination table and listening to how Beth had to help Harlan with an amputation. Someone had been bitten during an attack while trying to get away from Saviors. The screams had haunted him for days, but Beth had been beaming at the dinner table about how they’d managed to save the woman despite her wounds and pain. It takes a special kind of person to bear witness to all of what goes on inside a doctor’s office these days.

‘You did this!’ the woman snarls. ‘All of it! I know who you are.’ She spits into the snow next to her. ‘The little prince.’

Daryl walks over. ‘Are you cold? You should get inside. Your dress is soaked.’

She laughs bitterly and waves her bottle around like she’s trying to swat a fly. Wine sloshes around in the glass container. ‘I don’t care about the cold. Leave me alone. This is all your fault. I know what you’re doing. I’ve seen it since the start. You and your people. Rick Grimes. King Ezekiel.’ She spits in the snow again. ‘Maggie Rhee. I see it. You slaughter our people and pretend to be so much better than us while we starve.’

‘Nobody is starving,’ Daryl says. ‘You have enough food here to last the winter. The spring harvest will be shared.’

Another cynical laugh that sounds hallow. ‘Sure, you’ll come riding through those gates with your carts and trucks, food spilling from the back. Who are the saviors now, hmm? You rode off like victors and left us to bury our dead with our bare hands because god forbid one of us held a shovel. You searched our dead before we could put them into the ground! Your filthy hands on our people.’

Daryl nods because he remembers. Saviors screaming and crying that they wanted to make sure their own people were truly dead while Aaron and a man from the Kingdom walked past the rows of the dead with their spears. Not checking, just making sure. Even the ones with bullets in their brains got another stab.

Pockets were emptied to make sure no bullets or guns were lost. Lighters, knives, anything useful they had carried was confiscated and thrown on a pile. Daryl doesn’t doubt that it hadn’t been given back to the people of the sanctuary.

‘You hunted us like animals.’

 ‘You did the same to us,’ Daryl counters even though he knows that doesn’t make it right.

‘We didn’t start this. We didn’t do anything,’ the woman says and her voice trembles.

‘Don’t pretend y’all were innocent.’                                                                                                                                

‘My girl worked in the kitchen. She had a bad knee, she was always in the kitchen. My daughter. My _child_ ,’ she cries. ‘She worked hard for her points – never did anything to anyone. What was she guilty of? Little prince? Tell me.’

‘She didn’t surrender. We gave you all a chance to surrender.’

‘A choice between your bullets or his bat for treason? What kind of a choice is that?’ the woman shakes her head. She looks at the wall. ‘How many did you kill? Have you come here to see? To count? Are you _that_ proud?’

‘I didn’t come here to do that,’ Daryl says but he’s not sure why he didn’t walk away as soon as he realized what the wall was. There are winter flowers at the bottom, covered by a thin layer of snow. Small candles that had been burning before. Prayer beats, poems in languages he doesn’t understand, even a couple of polaroid pictures shriveled up due to water damage. He tries not to look at the faces and skims over the names.

The woman is harder to ignore. He has seen so many versions of her over the past year. Men and women with empty eyes, clutching a bottle while their friends tried to console them. They tried to drown their grief and erase whatever it was they had seen during the war. Friends being torn apart or shot, walkers with familiar faces, the screams of those who couldn’t be saved. Or their own hands wrapping around throats as a last resort, thumbs pressing into eyes while trying to get away, or even firing a shot from great distance and later being horrified by the joy felt when they saw that infamous red mist.

Some managed to let go of the bottle eventually. Out of sense of duty, or because their loved ones finally managed to get through to them. Others opted out. Others still are just like this woman, still in mourning and unable to let go of their half-empty bottles.

She’s not drunk. Daryl knows what a drunk looks and sounds like. He has never turned to the bottle himself even though he had plenty of access. In the first weeks after the war, he slept next to Merle out of fear what he might do to himself when left alone. Paul’s blade carries the promise that it will never kiss his own skin, but he knows he doesn’t even need a weapon to hurt himself.

Thinking about those weeks after the war is still hard. Just a muddle of heart-breaking grief that seemed almost impossible to bear. Tears and insomnia, nightmares and bewildered silence when the words just escaped him and he’d spent hours staring at his fingernails and later not remembering it. Days completely wiped from his memory. Waking up with Merle holding him still and then giving him tea with honey to soothe his raw throat.

Grief. And then the anger. A quest for vengeance that just led to shame, helplessness and loss of faith in himself. A rift between him and his family that only time could close. Still a crack below the surface but fading with every month that passes now.

Once that fire had died down; healing. First of his body; Rosita chasing him around the Kingdom, urging him on in Spanish until he could keep up with her. Days spent dancing around each other, trading jabs until he finally packed his old punch again. And then of his mind: long conversations with Merle while standing guard together, wandering through the forest while talking to Shane, crying onto Maggie’s shoulder when the healing didn’t go as fast as he’d liked.

He’d scoffed the first time his brother spoke of the New World, but Carl had insisted it could become reality. He’d pretend to believe it for the sake of others, and to make himself seem more normal. Adjusted. Better. Slowly, over time, he’d started to have faith in the idea, if not himself. He considered himself doomed, but maybe –just maybe he could be a founding father of the New World.

He became a messenger. People laughed about that behind his back, calling him a lapdog and lackey. None of them realized the amount of influence he has in his position. As a son of all communities, he sits at every table to supply information, hear the latest news and advice his wide-spread family. He makes deals, and trades. Nothing happens without him knowing about it.

‘ _Leave_!’

Daryl puts his hands in the pockets of his jeans. He nods. ‘Yeah – I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here.’

‘That’s right,’ the woman snaps. ‘Fuck off!’

He walks back along the wall and isn’t surprised that Frankie is looking for him. She runs from the guard post to the land that was supposed to be part of the farm but now looks like wasteland. Red hair fanning out, cheeks just as red from the cold. He takes pity on her when she stops, one hand pressed into her side as she frantically looks around.

He whistles sharply.

She whirls around. Her shoulders sag with relief. ‘Daryl,’ she says as she comes jogging over. ‘We were looking for you out front – oh my gosh, are you okay?’

‘I’m fine. There’s a woman sitting at the memorial site. She’s cold. She shouldn’t be out here in this weather, dressed like that.’

‘That’s Amanda. Did she say anything to you?’

‘She lost her daughter during the war.’

Frankie wraps her arms around herself. ‘Yes.’

Daryl nods and looks out over the sanctuary’s fields.

The Saviors have been their enemy since the very start. He remembers sneaking into that outpost and murdering all those men and women in cold blood. He doesn’t regret killing the two men while he was captured, or blowing up that entire convoy with Morgan. He doesn’t have nightmares about the missions Rick send him on in the middle of the night.

When the war was over, he’d hated them still. Snarling at the Saviors at the Kingdom, hoping the rest of them would starve in their god-forsaken factory because he’d been so scared of them. Sleeping with one eye open, trauma letting him relive the moment he’d been dragging into that clearing where Glenn would die, waking up in sweat at just the thought of being back at the factory.

Now, he thinks about that truck arriving at Hilltop Colony. The Saviors he had bargained for along with some sheep. Now, he wonders whether they’d been just as scared to sleep in his home. Whether they, too, had slept with one eye open, fearing to hear the twang of his crossbow and that dull impact of his bolt.

He hopes not.

He knows the feeling too well to wish it upon anyone.

‘Dare? I’m sorry,’ Frankie says, ‘ _Daryl_ , I mean. Are you okay?’ She looks like she wants to reach out and touch his shoulder like she would do back in the day.

‘Did you lose friends during the war?’

Frankie blinks and hugs herself tighter. ‘Of course I did.’

‘Yeah – I’m sorry, I just…’ Daryl sighs. ‘One of my friends, he lost his boyfriend during the war. Later, he said people avoided him. Said they were scared to see the hurt.’ He kicks his boots together before meeting Frankie’s eye again. ‘I didn’t want to see yours. Any savior’s. We’ll never agree on Negan or what kind of a man he was, but I’m sorry about your friends.’

‘I’m sorry about yours, too,’ Frankie says softly.

‘Thank you.’ He grabs the band of his crossbow, fingers going white against the rough fabric. ‘I heard you were short a guy short on patrol.’

‘Yes. We’ll figure it out, call back-‘

‘I’ll saddle Khamsin,’ Daryl says before walking away, head bowed and lost in thought.

 

 

Hours later, the youngest Dixon presses a kiss to Khamsin’s nose to thank her for the ride. She’s content after getting to race and jump on the way back, though it had taken an abnormal amount of bribery to get her to go into the box. Even with this cold, she’d rather stay outside.

The rest of the soldiers are lingering near the exit. Most had looked wary when they saw that Daryl would be joining the patrol but nobody had objected. He’d recognized some as prison guards and had wondered whether any of them had ever been his guard. Whether they had watched him, naked and cold and scared out of his mind, eating dogfood sandwiches. Whether they had been the ones who’d laughed when he threw up, or maybe one of them had been the guard who had taken pity on him and had at least turned around when he’d taken a piss in the bucket provided.

He’d shaken that thought after a while. There’s no point thinking about that now.

‘Thank you for coming with us, little prince.’

Daryl glances over his shoulder to see the squad leader leaning against the door of Khamsin’s box. He’s about Rick’s age, maybe a couple of years older and his hair is neatly trimmed, completely white. He has a kind face. With his calm authority, he has always reminded Daryl of Hershel in a way.

‘Sure.’

‘Your horse is beautiful.’

‘Yeah, she is. Thank you.’ He smiles when Khamsin shoves his shoulder with her head. ‘Ey, stop bein’ jealous, I ain’t givin’ him no treats. Settle down, girl.’ He makes sure she has enough water and food before stepping out of the box.

‘Listen,’ the man says. ‘The guys and me were wondering – that kick-ass bike of yours, does it still run?’

Daryl narrows his eyes. ‘Yeah. Why?’

The Savior leans against the wall with his shoulder and glances at his friends before looking at the teenager again. He smirks. ‘What are you going to do when you run out of gas?’

‘Cry. What’s it to you?’

‘Do you know what Ethanol is?’

Daryl nods. ‘It’s a biofuel. It can be made from corn, sugar beets ‘nd switchgrass. A guy at Alexandria gave me chemistry lessons while I built the bike,’ he says when the man’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. ‘Gle – my dad wanted me to go to school. I know you guys made it here, part of the factory uses it as fuel, right? It’s how the lights are still on here while we’re still building mills and getting our solar panels back up.’

The man nods. ‘We’re trading it with the Kingdom for extra food as well.’

‘I know.’

‘Of course,’ the man says with a small smile. ‘I just – we just mean to say; if you ever need to switch fuel sources, we can help you adjust your engine so your bike will run on Ethanol. It’s not hard to do – you just have to know how. We’ll give you the fuel of course.’

Daryl glances at the men lingering near the exit before looking at the guard. ‘Why?’

‘Just being nice.’

‘No. Tell me why.’

The man shrugs and doesn’t meet his eye. ‘He’d want us to look after you.’

Daryl works his jaw. He takes a deep breath and puts his hand on the man’s shoulder, squeezing it as he passes. ‘Thank you.’

 

 

‘We need to talk,’ Beth says when she sits down on the bed in their temporary room. There’s a steaming cup of tea in her clasped hands. Earlier today, Daryl had shown the guards on patrol which herbs are good for Beth to have on hand. Not only does she use them for their healing properties, but the teas she makes are soothing for everyone. Big pots now boil in the kitchen, ready to be distributed when the workers return from outside.

‘What’s wrong?’ Daryl murmurs. He’s sitting on the other end of the bed. The bow is in parts. He’s cleaning it thoroughly to make sure there’s no snow caught anywhere, no water settling into the grooves so it will rust later.

‘Nothing.’ Beth sits cross legged across from him. She looks determined. ‘I’m not going back to Hilltop. Not for a while, at least.’

Daryl looks up.

‘They need me here. The doctor that comes from the Kingdom once a month? It’s not enough, Dare. What if a fever breaks out? Any kind of contagious disease? What if a child gets sick during the night? It will take them too long to get to the Kingdom. Someone needs to be here.’ Her finger traces the rim of the cup. ‘Please don’t get angry.’

‘I ain’t angry,’ Daryl says but he looks away and continues with his chore. It helps to focus on the little bolts and screws. It’s a delicate process to put the bow back together again. He needs to get everything just right.

‘It’s important to me, Dare. If we want this new world to succeed, we have to stick together. We have to take care of each other. If that means I need to stay here, then so be it. The people are nice to me. I know you’re worried, but they’re kind.’

‘Nobody’s stupid enough to pick a fight with a goddamn doctor anymore, you’re too valuable,’ Daryl snaps before he takes a deep breath. ‘Sorry. I – you’re right. They are nice to y’all. I’m glad.’

‘They love you,’ Beth says with a small smile. ‘I didn’t understand before – why every savior was still so… I shouldn’t have been surprised. No matter the circumstances, you’re great at making people love you.’

‘Wonder who taught me that, huh?’

Beth smiles and twirls one strand of her blonde hair around her finger before blowing him a kiss.

Daryl laughs and shakes his head. ‘I can’t believe people still fall for that. So stupid.’

‘New world, old world,’ she says with a shrug. ’It has always worked. Teacher?’ she pouts and blinks, ‘daddy got called to go see a sick horse and I was just so worried about the poor thing – I couldn’t study for my test today. Can I do it after the weekend? Please?’

‘Get the fuck out,’ Daryl laughs. ‘ _That_ worked?’

‘Totally! Kal, it’s so cold outside and it’s so dark,’ she pulls a sad face, ‘is there anyone who can take my nightshift?’

‘You’ve never skipped your nightshifts.’

Beth smiles. ‘No, but I _could_.’

Daryl rolls his eyes. ‘They don’t like you because you’re pretty and got tits – stop being crazy. Okay, maybe in the beginning. Before,’ he admits when Beth raises an eyebrow at him. ‘Not anymore though. You’re tough, and you’re a good person. Everyone knows that. That’s why they like you.’

‘That’s why they like you too. It’s not just those biceps, you know?’

Daryl ducks his head shyly and laughs. ‘I hope so. That’s what y’all taught me anyway. I’m trying real hard.’

‘I know.’

The teenager sighs and clicks the final piece in place before attaching the bowstring. ‘Did you talk to Maggie yet?’

‘Not yet, I figured it was best to be miles away when I told her. I’ll call her tomorrow.’ She leans forward. ‘These people need me here, Dare.’

‘I know, and I ain’t surprised that you wanna stay I just… I don’t like it. Everyone’s some place else. Sometimes –‘ he shakes his head but keeps talking anyway, ‘sometimes I miss being out on the road, or that first night at Alexandria. Everyone piled into one room, ya know? I liked that.’

‘Me too,’ Beth says softly, ‘but everything’s different now, and you’ll come to visit me, right?’

Daryl works his jaw. ‘Will you come home if I say I won’t?’

‘No.’

Tears well in Daryl’s eyes.

‘I’d miss you though,’ Beth says.

‘Yeah. I’m gonna miss you anyway.’ He roughly wipes his tears away. ‘I don’t even know why I’m fucking cryin’ – this is fucking stupid.’

Beth puts her cup on the nightstand and walks over to sit closer to him. She takes the baseball cap off and draws him into a hug. His face pressed into her neck, her fingers teasing his curls. She holds him while he cries.

 

 

After two hours of wandering through the forest, Daryl’s pretty sure why the hunters aren’t as successful as the ones at Hilltop, Alexandria or the Kingdom. There’s a woman who moves swiftly through the forest, on the tips of her toes and with a bow in her hand. She’s as silent as she can be in the snow and seems to know what to look out for. Fresh tracks lead her east but nobody follows.

Daryl watches how the men ignore her signals and head north instead. They walk in a cluster, make too much noise and don’t mind the wind at all. One of them seems to consider himself the boss, the rest are a lot younger and look intimidated by him. He used to be a soldier during the war. Daryl remembers him.

The woman comes back to the group around lunchtime and nobody listens to her complains. ‘We should have gone east,’ she insists.

‘We should have gotten decent gear,’ the man, Kyle, bites back, ‘but no such luck. _That’s_ why we haven’t caught anything in a while. Not because we’re not heading in the right direction.’

‘She’s right,’ Daryl says as he warms his hand by the small fire. ‘Tracks went East.’

‘I don’t even know why you’re here,’ Kyle says, ‘so best shut the hell up and just let us do our jobs.’

‘I’m here ‘cause you ain’t doing it. You’re complainin’ about rations? Got a whole forest out here, but you’re too much of a fool to catch your own dinner. You wanna starve instead of listen to a girl, now?’

‘Shut the hell up,’ Kyle grumbles.

The woman shoots him a small smile.

They head east an hour later. Kyle adjust the course slowly but surely, not wanting his younger guys to catch onto the fact that they’re following her plan after all. It’s pathetic but Daryl holds his tongue. He spots tracks everyone else misses, but the woman sees enough of them to not starve out here.

Kyle only notices what they’re tracking once they come across it.

A wild boar.

Daryl hangs back and watches how the woman grabs her bow. Kyle beats her to the kill with a wild shot. Well… Not quite the kill. The boar collapses and screams. A chilling sound of anguish and pain. The arrow has hit him fatally but it will take him a while to bleed out.

Kyle laughs. He nudges the younger men until they laugh nervously too. One of them looks sickened by the sound of the dying animal. They all watch how Kyle slowly trudges towards it through the snow, boasting loudly about the bad kill. He looks down at the screaming animal and then slowly turns his head to look at the youngest Dixon, who is leaning against a tree nearby. ‘Hey, little prince. Remind you of someone you know? What was his name? Eric?’

Daryl pulls a cigarette out of the package and lights it. He inhales sharply and walks over. ‘You were there that night?’

‘Yeah,’ Kyle leers. ‘That’s what he sounded like.’

‘I know,’ Daryl says. He plucks some tobacco from his lower lip. ‘I heard him.’

The younger men shift their weight uncomfortably.

‘Know who died screaming like as well? Your brother.’ Daryl smiles at Kyle. ‘That’s so funny, I hit him just like that. A spot where he would bleed out. Fatal. Nothing that anyone could do anymore. There was nobody around the help him anyway, we’d already murdered the rest of his crew. He was the one at the outpost near the bridge, right?’

Kyle pales.

‘Yeah, I remember. He once hit me when I cried and refused to eat the disgusting food y’all served your prisoners. I recognized him. Unlike you, I actually meant it to be a bad kill like this. I wanted him to bleed out. He did.’

Kyle grits his teeth.

‘Did you ever find him?’ Daryl asks while cocking his head to the side curiously. ‘I let him turn. Did you ever find him – I bet you went lookin’.’

With a grunt, Kyle lunges for him. Movements too slow and predictable, fueled by rage and hurt. Easy enough to evade. Daryl steps aside, arms on his back like how Paul would sometimes do just to get him riled up, the same teasing smile on their lips. Then Shane’s foot hooked around an ankle and grabbing hold of a wrist before twisting the arm onto the back as the attacker goes to the ground with a dull thud.

Kyle screams and Daryl eases the pressure but digs his knee into the man’s back.

‘You ever talk about Eric again, I’ll kill you,’ Daryl promises him.

‘You little _shit_! You fucking-‘

Daryl applies more pressure to silence him again. ‘What, you’re mad because your plan backfired? You made me look at a picture of my dad’s smashed-in skull for weeks, so I’m not going to burst into tears when you tell me someone died screaming. _Desensitized_ , Harlan calls it.’ He leans down. ‘Try to fuck me over again, and you’ll end up the same way your asshole brother did.’ He pushes his face into the ground while getting up and grabbing his bow.

The boar dies by his bolt.

The silence is only broken by Kyle’s angry, ragged breathing.

Daryl smokes his cigarette and leaves the bolt behind as he heads back to the Sanctuary.

 

 

The paper in his hand has been folded and unfolded so many times that it’s almost tearing at the creases. The handwriting is neat, just a couple of words and a little mess of lines in the corner to make the pen work. The note has kept him busy for a couple of hours now. He’s sitting one the half-door of Khamsin’s box and stares at it.

‘There you are!’ Beth comes over. ‘I’ve been looking for you!’

‘Something wrong?’ Daryl sits up and gets ready to swing his legs over to land next to her.

‘No. I heard about the message, did you know them?’

‘I know who they were, yeah,’ Daryl nods. ‘Good people, one was in my training group when I stayed there before the war. I think his name was Max.’

‘Do you know what happened?’

He shrugs. ‘A patrol got caught off guard by a herd. It happened at night. The one on guard probably fell asleep himself, nobody heard them coming. Happens.’

‘Yeah, it does. I’m sorry though.’ Beth hoists herself up on the door and gets greeted by Khamsin, who pushes her nose into the girl’s pockets in search for treats. ‘Hey silly, I don’t have anything for you, I’m sorry. Go bother Dare.’ She pushes the horses’ nose away gently. ‘So… it’s been a week and I’m fine.’

Daryl glances at her. ‘Yeah? So?’

‘I haven’t changed my mind yet. Sam packed up my stuff, he’ll come live here too, so there will be someone keeping an eye on me, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

‘Of course that’s what I’m worried about,’ Daryl mutters because there’s no use in pretending. Kal and his guards left three days ago. He and Beth are the only ones left now. ‘Sam must be real crazy about you to come stay here.’

‘You know what? I think he might be,’ Beth says with a smile. ‘He’s real nice, too.’

‘He better be, or Merle ‘nd me will fuck him up.’

‘Stop.’ She elbows him.

‘What? You’d fuck Taiwo up if he turns into a jerk, right?’

‘Well, _yeah_ , but-‘

‘I’m your big brother, I get to say shit like that.’

‘ _Merle_ is my big brother, you’re the baby.’

‘Hershel is the baby!’

‘He’s not _my_ brother though.’ Beth laughs and reaches out to take his hand.

Daryl sighs and plays with her fingers. ‘Are you kicking me out because Sam’s on his way and you can’t have sex when your little brother sleeps in your bed?’

‘Oh my god!’ Beth yanks her hand back and starts pummeling him.

Daryl sniggers. He waits until she stops. ‘It’s a good reason though, I get it. There’s not much for me to do around here anymore anyway. I should get back to my own job, it’s just… I’m scared something will happen to you. This ain’t a good place.’

‘This _wasn’t_ a good place.’

‘Yeah – ‘s what I meant.’

‘Sure you did,’ Beth says teasingly.

‘No, - I can see that it’s changing. The lieutenants are gone, Negan is rottin’ in his cell. This place is different now,’ Daryl nods. ‘Better. I _can_ see it, sometimes I just don’t want to. I’m sorry. I’ll try harder.’

‘It takes time, don’t be so hard on yourself. You came here when you didn’t have to, you’ve helped the people here all week long like you would have done at any community. It means a lot to the people here. It means a lot to me, too.’ She reaches into her back pocket and presses something into his hand. ‘Here. I told you you would get it back.’

It’s Will’s lighter.

Daryl curls his fingers around it. He smiles.

 

 

 


	40. No fighting

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The ocean still mystifies him. Yesterday, some of fishermen from Oceanside had taken him out on sea in their boat and he’d learned about all the different kinds of fish, how to use the nets and navigate the waves. It had been icy cold, the water soaking his gloves and jeans while he worked but it had been a great experience. He’d been on boats before of course, small rowing boats with his father’s friends.

One time he’d snuck out to the lake with his friends on a hot day and walked all around it to get to the cabins that belonged to some rich folks from Atlanta. They’d broken into a shed to get to one of the rowing boats. A fight in the middle of the lake had landed him in the water and he’d swam back to the trailer park instead of the cabin, refusing to help get the boat back in place out of spite. It had been a good choice; the cops had been waiting for his friends on the other side.

That boat was nothing compared to Oceanside’s of course. The lake was a bathtub compared to the endless ocean.

Another thing he’d never experienced were the waves. At first they made him uneasy, his steps slow as he made his way to the side of the boat where he was supposed to sit, hand always on the railing while the women laughed at him. They forced him to keep looking at the horizon so he wouldn’t get seasick. It worked well enough.

Later, they clapped when he could jump down to the outriggers and help with dragging the nets onboard. They were kind enough not to mention how he’d wobbling on the rig, arms flailing until one of the woman grabbed the back of his jacket to steady him with a smile.

He prefers sitting in the sand and watching the waves though. The sun has gone down and the ocean is black, the waves shimmering silver in the moonlight. Footsteps in the sand behind him cause him to smile. ‘Hey.’ A blanket is draped over his shoulders. ‘Oh. Thanks.’

Cyndie sits down next to him. ‘You’re welcome. I heard you’re leaving tomorrow, why so soon?’

‘Places to be, people to see. They’re waiting for a part at Alexandria, I’ve just picked it up at the Kingdom. Someone asked me to stop by here real quick to deliver some letters and stuff, he even paid me.’ He shoots Cyndie a grin, ‘and I was running low on cigarettes so… ’

She rolls her eyes but laughs. ‘Thomas? Don’t act like you’re not a romantic at heart.’

‘Haven’t ever seen a girl so happy at the sight of a Dixon, that’s for sure, damn,’ he snorts. He draws figures in the sand beside him. ‘Would you let him come live here if he asked?’

‘Why not?’

‘Weren’t so fond of strangers a while back.’

‘That was to keep us safe. Ties like those will only make our communities stronger,’ Cyndie says. ‘Besides, they deserve their happiness. We all do.’

‘Yeah. Everyone says he’s a good guy anyway, so…’ Daryl shrugs. ‘Thanks for letting me stay here for two days, Khamsin needed the rest. Me, too, if I’m honest.’

‘You’ve been _such_ a burden, I don’t know how we managed it,’ Cyndie says with a dramatic sigh and a hand pressed to her forehead.

Daryl smirks. ‘Just tryin’ to be polite, good lord – never mind.’

She knocks their shoulders together. ‘I’m glad you stayed. We hadn’t seen you in a while.’

‘Yeah,’ the Dixon draws a flower in the sand with his finger, ‘I like coming here though. Nobody treats me like a kid here, same with Washington. I like that. I mean – people always treat me differently just because I’m Maggie’s, Merle’s ‘nd Rick’s, ya know? Nobody here knew me when I were twelve. It helps.’

Cyndie laughs at the string of names. ‘I know what you mean.’

‘It helps that you don’t give a shit, too,’ Daryl laughs. ‘ _You wanna sleep on the floor, Dixon, you go right ahead_. I was just trying to be polite and now I’m sleeping on the floor like a dog. That wouldn’t happen at any other community, lemme tell ya.’

‘I offered to take the floor so you could have the bed!’

‘Pfft. You weren’t very persistent about it!’ Daryl grins and knocks their shoulders together again. ‘Kidding.’ He stretches out, ‘though I kind of miss my _suite_ at the Kingdom… You know Ezekiel granted me a whole wing of the art dep-‘

Cyndie grabs a handful of sand and knocks the baseball cap off before rubbing it into his hair.

 

 

‘I got it, squirt,’ Daryl walks over to the water pomp to take over from a girl who can’t be more than two years older than Judith. Brown hair twisted into thick braids with some stubborn strands sticking to her cheeks. ‘What’s your name again?’

‘Jolene,’ she says promptly. ‘I’m going to be a messenger, just like you!’

‘You after my job, huh?’ the Dixon grins while he pumps the water into her bucket. ‘Are you training with Kal? If you want to be outside of them walls, you gotta train for it. Ain’t no walk in the park. So, are you?’

‘No, he says I’m too small still.’

‘Ah,’ Daryl nods as he fills up the second bucket. ‘My dad thought I was too small too, in the beginning. Do you know what I did?’

‘What?’

‘My chores,’ Daryl grabs one of the buckets and holds it out to her. He laughs when she pouts but still takes it. ‘Nah. Just keep naggin’, girl. That’s what I did,’ he says with a wink before he heads over to the stables to give the water to the horses.

An hour later, he falls into the seat next to Maggie at the dinner table. Everyone else is milling about. Aaron is entertaining Hershel with his beard while trying to eat. Alex is sitting at their table as well but he hasn’t said anything after their initial greetings. Kal sits with his soldiers but Jolene has commandeered the spot opposite him and seems to be asking the same question over and over.

‘I think I got Kal into a world of hurt,’ Daryl murmurs.

‘Somehow you always do,’ Maggie murmurs while she reads the letters he brought her.

‘It’s just too easy not to,’ the teenager grins. He turns towards the nurse. ‘Hey Alex, where’s Paul at?’

‘God knows,’ Alex snaps before he gets up abruptly and walks away.

‘Christ, what – I didn’t even say anything!’ he says when Maggie sighs. ‘I didn’t! I just asked-‘

She rolls her eyes. ‘I know, you didn’t say anything wrong, it’s just – they’re fighting a lot recently, him and Jesus. Well – it’s not really easy to fight with Jesus,’ she says with a shake of her head. ‘He ran off some place. I think he’s at the sanctuary to _check on Beth.’_

‘Fucking sucks. I hope he gets his shit together and they fix stuff. I’m gonna –what?’ he asks when Maggie looks at him with raised eyebrows.

‘Nothing. I’m just… nothing.’

‘Right,’ Daryl says slowly as he picks his plate up. ‘I’m gonna draw some up in my room and go to sleep early. I’m going out to hunt at sunrise tomorrow, so don’t wait for me with breakfast or whatever.’

‘Go hunting the day after tomorrow,’ Maggie says. ‘You’ve been working for weeks now, take a break, Dare.’

‘I’m fine,’ he says before leaning over the table. ‘Hey bro! Are you going to draw with me some? Hmm? Stop pulling uncle Aaron’s hair outta his face? Yeah?’ he holds out his hands and laughs when Hershel does the same.

‘Thank God,’ Aaron laughs when he transfers the boy to his big brother.

He doesn’t end up drawing much and spends the rest of the evening crawling around on the floor with Hershel to explore the room. They chase a ball made of yarn and end up on the bed when the little boy gets fuzzy. Curled up together, with Daryl marveling about how fast the boy is growing and changing.

While being a messenger has been his dream job, he does sometimes feel sad when leaving his little brother behind. It’s getting better though because sometimes he radios Merle while he’s out on the road and Merle will tell him Hershel is driving him crazy with his chatty ass. He’ll listen to his big brother’s nonsense and his little brother’s baby talk in the background, and not feel so far from home.

 

 

It’s midday when Daryl sits on the wooden fence with Tara. They’re watching how the Kingdom’s soldiers run their laps and do their exercises. Even in peace time, their routine is rigorous, which makes them the best force of all safe zones. Alexandria, Hilltop and Oceanside have small strike forces, but the Kingdom has an army.

One of the soldiers is a lanky teenager who seems to still need some time to get used to his longer limbs. Spots on his cheeks and forehead, awkward facial hair appearing on his chin about which he complains with a creaky voice. He runs after the other soldiers and tries to look tough every time he passes the two visitors.

‘Good job Henry,’ Daryl praises while he sharpens his knife and enjoys the sunshine. ‘The King would be proud.’

The young boy beams back before hurrying on.

‘So, when are we going to meet the boyfriend?’

Daryl groans. ‘Why are you ‘nd Rosita always double-teaming me, huh? She was all over my ass about it at Alexandria yesterday! I done told ya; the harvest festival.’

She looks at him. Black pony tail and rosy cheeks from the winter sun. She’s wearing a ridiculous neon-green pair of plastic sunglasses and a Santa hat. ‘Great.’ The smile she gives him is almost terrifying. ‘I can’t wait.’

‘Yeah…’ Daryl worries his bottom lip and stops his chore to examine the blade. It’s sharp enough. He puts it away and keeps playing with the whetstone. Fingertips scraping over the rough surface, over and over again.

After a couple of seconds, Tara reaches out to put her hand over his to still them. ‘Hey, you’re hurting yourself. We won’t give him a hard time, I promise.’

‘Ain’t that, I was just…’ He rubs at the bridge of his nose and adjusts his baseball cap. ‘We can talk, right? About… stuff.’

Tara lets the sunglasses slide to the tip of her nose and gives him a look. ‘No. No no. We can’t.’

‘Come _on_!’

‘No, I have this thing where I’m allergic to teenagers talking about _stuff_.’

‘Tara.’

She sighs and pushes the sunglasses back in place. ‘Next pack of twizzlers you find is mine,’ she holds out her fist.

He bumps it. ‘Okay,’ he shifts on the fence so they’re facing each other. ‘So… did you ever… like…’ he plucks at his jeans, ‘you ever been with someone – okay, so, what if one person…’

‘If you’re going to torture me like this, you’ll owe me two packs of twizzlers,’ Tara tells him. ‘Spit it out. Deep breath and then just word vomit, come on, you can do it.’

‘Okay.’ He takes a deep breath. ‘You ever been with someone who ain’t ever been with anyone, and if you did, did it kinda suck for you? ‘cause I’m kinda worried about that. And do you have to bring a gift or something if you’ve been away a while? I know Ezekiel always got Carol stuff and Rick got Michonne mints once, but I don’t know if it’s a rule or nothing, so… I don’t want to be a bad boyfriend.’

‘My brain froze after the first thing you said, what was the rest?’

‘Tara!’ He stomps her shoulder. ‘I’m serious!’

She sniggers. ‘Easy things first; it’s not a rule, you don’t have to bring him things just because you’ve been away a while. If you ever see something they might like; be cute and bring it back, sure, but it’s not a rule. He’ll be glad to see you, with or without gift. If he’s not, we’ll bury him in Rick’s backyard at midnight, okay?’

Daryl rolls his eyes.

‘We can make it look like Carl did it. Nobody would even ask any questions.’

‘We’re not murdering my boyfriend. Or framing my brother for murder.’

‘Boring.’ She sighs. ‘Okay, next problem. You’re worried about not having that much experience? Did he say anything about it? Going by the state of your neck last time, you two get along like a house on fire.’

Daryl gives her a suffering look.

‘I am _never_ going to let that go,’ Tara grins. She sobers up quickly enough. ‘Answer the questions, Dare.’

He shrugs and looks away, plucking at his lower lip before biting at his thumb nervously. ‘He were real nice about it, said I needed to stop worrying so much. But you know, he’s done… stuff with people and… like… I took off my shirt and we… but not, like… you know.’

‘Totally.’

‘So...’ Daryl peeks at her. He frowns when she stays silent. ‘You’re going to give some goddamn advice or what?’

Tara blinks and then laughs. ‘Your own boyfriend told you to stop worrying so much, but sure, let me give you some advice: _stop worrying so much_! He’s cool with everything, he’s crazy about you, right?’

Daryl shrugs.

‘Dare.’

‘Yeah – I guess. I think so! Yeah…’

‘So, problem solved. You get me some twizzlers, we’re never doing this again, it’s all good.’

Daryl grins at the snow beneath them. ‘Fine. I’ll find you some damn twizzlers.’ He jumps down from the fence. ‘Thanks though.’ He starts walking away.

‘Hey, Dare?’ Tara takes her sunglasses off and he turns around to look at her. ‘Everything at your own pace. You draw your own lines, nobody crosses them until you say so, okay? And if they do, they’ll end up in Rick’s backyard.’

‘And you’ll blame it on Carl?’ Daryl asks with a huff of laughter.

‘No. It’ll be on me,’ Tara says with a small smile. ‘Nothing you don’t want. Promise me.’

‘Promise,’ Daryl nods. ‘And hey, you fucking _suck_ at giving advice! Now I’ll have to go to goddamn Ezekiel, thanks a lot!’

‘That was great advice!’ Tara objects before laughing. ‘Can I watch while you ask Ezekiel? That’ll be hilarious.’ She jumps off the fence and starts to follow him. ‘Oh, my honorable child, I shall parlay you the secrets of consent with thee – that’s what it’s going to be like and you won’t understand shit, and it’ll be great.’

‘I shall parlay?’ Daryl sniggers, ‘what the fuck?’

‘Exactly!’ Tara says, ‘No, that’s royal talk, I didn’t mess it up, stop grinning, you loon. Come here.’ She throws her arm over his shoulder. ‘Fine. Fine. I’ll grand you the gay secrets of; bury them in the backyard if they cross a line, in more detail. Inside, where I’m not freezing to death.’

He puts his arm around her waist and tugs her closer.

 

 

Daryl jumps down from Khamsin’s back right into Taiwo’s arms. The other teenager grunts at the impact but manages to hold him up. Legs wrap around a waist while they kiss. Taiwo stumbles backwards until he can lean back against the wall.

‘Shit, you’re heavy,’ he says when they break apart.

‘You always say the sweetest things!’ Daryl laughs. He glides down until his boots hit the floor and he likes that better anyway. Now he can press closer and let his fingertips run from a cheek down his neck, the nails raking over the zipper of Taiwo’s coat until he can round to his ass and put his hands in his back pockets, pulling him closer still.

‘Smooth,’ Taiwo grins before kissing him again. ‘Fuck, I’ve missed you. This was more than two weeks, man!’

‘I know, sorry, sorry,’ Daryl lets his forehead rest on his boyfriend’s shoulder. ‘There’s been something wonky about the radio’s so I didn’t just have to ride around to deliver mail and the occasional secret stuff. It was crazy.’ He leans back and looks at the other boy, ‘you got my letter though, right? I gave it to the guards who met with-‘

Taiwo kisses him before hugging him tightly. ‘I got your letter. Thanks.’

‘Help me with Khamsin. The faster we get out of here, the more time we got, I can’t stay for long.’

‘Yeah, I’ll help,’ Taiwo says eagerly. ‘Tell me what to do.’

They work quickly and efficiently. Taiwo cleans his equipment while Daryl brushes Khamsin down and inspects her hooves. They’re brand new after visiting the Kingdom, but he always checks her from head to toe after a ride, no matter how long or short. After inspecting her hind leg, he watches how Taiwo steps forward to rub her between the eyes.

Daryl beams. ‘She likes you!’

Taiwo looks doubtful.

‘Trust me, you get to rub her like that? She likes you. Paul tried once and almost lost his hand. She hates him for some bizarre reason.’

‘Good girl,’ Taiwo praises as he pets the horse some more.

Daryl frowns, ‘why’d you say that?’

‘Well, she’s a good girl, right? Got my boyfriend here safe and sound, good girl,’ Taiwo says before getting out of the box. ‘All done. Come on, I thought we were in a hurry? And if we want to get to my room, we’ll probably bump into all kinds of people who are going to hold us up.’

 

 

They do.

They sit at Mason’s table with their hands wrapped around a cup of tea. Daryl reports on the news from the other safe zones while Taiwo tries to distract him by playing footsie under the table. It’s hard to remember what Rick’s stance was on the new borders when Taiwo pretends to lick a drop of tea from his finger. After closer inspection, he sucks his finger into his mouth.

Daryl stumbles over his words.

Taiwo lifts an eyebrow and hollows his cheeks.

‘He – err. He – the river – it belong to Alexandria, but Hilltop, errr.. says… no,’ Daryl stutters as he watches how Taiwo slowly pulls his finger back out with hooded eyes. ‘They’ll figure it out.’

‘Damn. Does that gross stuff really work? Stop eating your finger, Tai,’ Amaka says loudly.

Taiwo jerks and his elbow slips off the armrest of his chair. His finger snags on his teeth painfully and he hisses. ‘Fuck!’

‘Later!,’ his sister scolds. ‘we’re trying to have a conversation with your boyfriend first, then you can go fu-‘

Mason reaches out and knocks his empty mug over to cut her off. He looks at Taiwo first who’s scowling at his sister while holding his wet finger with his other hand, and then at Daryl who looks ill. He bites back a smile. ‘We’ll finish this conversation later, Daryl. Come see me before you leave.’ He stands up, ‘and when you’re a little less pre-occupied.’

The door closes behind the man and the two boys glare at Amaka.

‘What? It was that or sitting in this meeting for another hour,’ she sniffs as she stands up. ‘You’re welcome.’

‘Thank you so much, I’m putting you up for adoption!’ Taiwo hisses. ‘Don’t even think about coming to our room, find another place to sleep.’

‘Fine, but you really want to work on your moves, brother. It looked like you were trying to throw up.’ She blows him a kiss and pets Daryl on the head before walking out.

It takes them five minutes to follow her down the staircase and a lot longer to reach the room at the beginning of the train. The fascination with the other communities has not died down even though the sight of just Daryl is no longer a reason for people to stare anymore. Now, they want news. What kind of deals there were made and if Washington can get in on them. Whether the electrical grids are up and running yet, that part was the right one, when they’ll get to trade in person. Does Oceanside need anything? What can they exchange for some of the Kingdom’s famous fruit come spring? Will Rick Grimes allow people access to his lands yet? Will Maggie Rhee come down to meet Mason?

Daryl tries to answer questions left and right while Taiwo drags him through the crowd and onto the platform. When the door of the train car finally closes, the Dixon teenager is laughing while his friend looks annoyed.

‘What’re you laughing at?’

‘Nothing. Just – you know, you. You dragging me through a sea of people like a caveman to get laid, to be exact.’

Taiwo perks up at that. ‘I’m getting laid?’

Daryl grins and pulls him closer by his belt, ‘sure. Focus on that part.’ He shrugs out of his jacket and hoodie but let’s Taiwo undo the buttons of his shirt. It’s warm in the train due to the lights and its own heating system that has been turned on to battle the biting cold. He doesn’t doubt that they’ll need to sleep close together under several blankets, but right now, the shivers running down his spine don’t come from the cold.

Soft kisses traded between every button until the shirt slides from his shoulders and falls onto the floor. Taiwo wants to push him towards the bed already, clearly eager with his dark eyes, pupils blown wide, but Daryl stops him.

‘Knives.’

‘Oh, I got to do everything around here, huh?’ Taiwo grins.

‘If you don’t want to get stabbed by accident, yeah. Don’t. Don’t make that joke,’ Daryl warns when his boyfriend opens his mouth. He grins when Taiwo pouts and reaches for the knife on his right, ‘just be careful, it's-‘

Taiwo throws the knife aside.

‘What the fuck!’ Daryl pushes him back roughly and looks around for the knife. ‘Why the hell did you do that? Shit!’ He grabs the weapon off the floor and walks to the nearest light to examine it. ‘You could have fucking damaged it, you idiot!’

‘Calm down, it didn’t hit the blade at all. I was aiming for the chair but-‘

‘Yeah right and you just missed by a mile and a half. Sure.’

‘It’s just a knife, man.’

Daryl lets his fingers trace the wildflowers to make sure there’s no damage done to the woodwork. ‘Someone gave it to me. It’s important to me, don’t pull something like that again.’

‘I thought you were telling me to be careful because you didn’t want me to hurt myself,’ Taiwo says with a small smile.

‘You carry a dao!’

‘That’s why I didn’t pay attention to what you said,’ Taiwo laughs. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, I just.. got a little eager, okay? Come here,’ he steps up behind Daryl and hugs him, his chin on his boyfriend’s shoulder. ‘Sorry.’

‘Yeah. ‘s okay.’

‘It’s a gorgeous knife. Did Glenn give it to you or something?’

Daryl smiles, strangely touched that that’s the first person Taiwo would think of. ‘Nah, Paul gave it to me. The flowers are from a drawin-‘

‘Of fucking course,’ Taiwo lets go abruptly, stomps over to the bed and sits down. He starts to unlace his boots. ‘Jesus Christ himself. Can you go five minutes without gushing about him?’

‘ _Gushing_ about him? You asked me who gave me the damn knife!’

‘You could have just said; some random ass guy,’ Taiwo snaps.

‘So you want me to lie to you? What the hell does it matter that he gave it to me? Johnatan found me these jeans while scavenging, you’re going to have a meltdown over that, too?’

‘I don’t know, Daryl,’ Taiwo gets up and looks angry. ‘Did you have a crush on Johnatan? Is he still your _special friend_? Were you ever going to tell me you sleep in his trailer?’

Daryl frowns, ‘what the hell are you talkin’ about? I don’t sleep in his trailer.’

‘Of course you don’t,’ Taiwo scoffs, ‘so _now_ you start lying to save your own skin? I thought it was fucking bullshit. I was like, meh, maybe, before I got your letter but I actually fell for all that crap. You missing me, wanting to come see me. Yeah, I bet you tried real hard to come see me.’

‘I’m here ain’t i?’ Daryl says as he buttons his shirt back up and puts the knife away. ‘This is fucking bullshit. I don’t know who you’ve been talking to but-‘

‘Do you know how embarrassing it is to have my own friends come back from the Kingdom with those stories? How Rick busted you and Paul in bed that night you found him at that farm? You told me you haven’t been with anyone, that it wasn’t like that with him, so what the hell was that? Just one night doesn’t count with you or something?’

‘That didn’t even happen! Paul busted-‘

‘Sure, whatever, man.’

Daryl sets his jaw, ‘do you wanna hear the true story, or you just going to be a jealous bitch about this? I’d have gotten mad if you’d thrown my goddamn gun too and I ain’t ever fucked Rick, so what’s your problem? Know what? Fuck you.’ He grabs his jacket and hoodie and yanks the door open.

‘Daryl, wait!’ Taiwo darts forward and grabs his boyfriend’ arm, tugging him back. A second later, there’s a blade pressed to his throat.

‘Let go of me. Right now.’

Taiwo lets go.

Daryl works his jaw before shoving his boyfriend back with the palm of his hands. He jumps onto the platform and runs towards the main hall.

Taiwo curses and sits back down on the bed, hands covering his face. It takes him an hour to realize that Daryl didn’t just leave the train or the station, but all of Washington.

 

 

‘It’s me, you nerd.’

Carl whirls around with wide eyes and a raised handgun. It’s a good thing he doesn’t automatically pull the trigger because his brother would have been a second too late with ducking under it and batting it down.

‘What the hell, man?’ Daryl growls. ‘Are you fuckin’ crazy? Get that out of my face!’

‘Sorry,’ Carl breathes but he turns around again and scans the surrounding area.

Daryl grabs his own sidearm, cocking it as he presses his back against his brother’s. ‘What is it?’

‘I saw a guy. I think.’

‘A guy or a walker?’

‘A guy!’

‘Well,’ Daryl looks around, too. ‘I don’t see nothing and they could have shot us a whole bunch of times now. Christ, the fuck are you doin’ out here, ya idiot.’

‘Looking for gas,’ Carl mutters as he drops to the floor so he can look under the cars. ‘I swear I same some dude here a second ago. Come on, try to find his tracks or something.’

The Dixon scoffs. ‘Ain’t no sniffer dog. It’s _asphalt_ ,’ he says, drawing the word out when the other teen glares at him. ‘You don’t leave tracks on asphalt, you dumbass. The fuck do you want me to do? The snow has already melted in this part of the world, open your eyes, Grimes, might learn something. Come on, it’s getting late. I want to be home before Judy goes to bed. I haven’t seen her in ages.’

‘Wait!’ Carl scrambles to his feet. ‘You’re coming back to Alexandria?’

Daryl laughs as he heads into the woods, ducking under a low branch, holding it back for a second just to make sure it hits his brother in the face. ‘Yeah, man.’

‘But what about your job? I thought you were going to see Taiwo! I can come with you. We could go right now, radio dad from the safe house half-way. We could make it half-way before nightfall. Let’s go!’

Daryl frowns. ‘What’re you talkin’ about, no way, dude. Rick would skin us alive if we just left.’

‘No he wouldn’t.’

‘ _Metaphorically_. Not literally’

‘That’s not how you use that,’ Carl huffs. ‘But big words for a Dixon, you’re hanging around Jesus too much.’

‘Yeah, you and Taiwo should start a bitchin’ club about that. Bet you’d be real happy together,’ Daryl snaps back. ‘I ain’t going back to Washington, I just came from that hellhole.’

With a couple of quick steps, Carl is walking next to him again. It bothers the Dixon a little that his brother is still an inch taller than him. The bandage he’s wearing over his eye is dirty so Daryl guesses he managed to escape Michonne’s clutches during the morning rush in house Grimes. She keeps telling him to keep it clean, but he keeps insisting that they might need the bandages for someone else.

Right now, there’s concern written all over his face. He steals a glance. ‘Did you two get into a fight or something?’

‘Yeah. Can we now go home? I walked all this way and my balls are freezing off, so…’ He gestures to the road. ‘Let’s get a move on.’

‘What – why did you _walk_?’

‘I left Khamsin there, means I have to go back there when I don’t want to string Taiwo to the highest tree and he’ll know I haven’t _left_ left, ya know?’

‘No.’

Daryl shrugs, ‘made sense to me. Come on,’ he grabs Carl’s elbow and tugs him along.

‘We should go looking for that guy I saw!’ Carl protests. ‘I can make you a fire in one of the buildings so you can get warm.‘

‘Sounds like a _great_ plan, brother. Let’s build a fire so every guy you made up can come warm their frozen balls by it. Good lord.’ Daryl ducks into the forest to take a short-cut to Alexandria. He glances at Carl and sees that his brother is chewing on his lip. ‘The fuck is wrong with you? That guy freak you out or something? It was probably just a walker, man.’

‘I know what I saw. It was a _man_. But no – maybe we should radio dad. At least tell him you’re coming! He didn’t count on you with dinner and everything, so…’

‘The hell? I gotta make a reservation now? If he ain’t got no food for me, I’ll go beg at Tara’s door. Whatever. What’s gotten into you?’ Daryl laughs as he shakes his head. ‘Can you imagine; yo this is Dare for Rick on the secure channel… got some food? I’m at the front door, open up.’

Carl laughs awkwardly. ‘Sorry. Yeah. Stupid.’ He’s silent for a couple of steps. They’re already walking along the wall now, the front gate is not too far away. ‘It’s just that Judith is sick, so... we’re actually in quarantine right now. You can’t come in.’

Daryl frowns. ‘She’s sick? Why the hell didn’t you radio me earlier? And you would have infected me already so your quarantine protocol sucks. It would explain a lot though, you sound fucking delirious. Get yourself checked, idiot.’ They round the last corner and wait in front of the gate. Daryl whistles sharply to be let in.

‘Wait, no!’ Carl says as he grabs him by the arm, ‘you can’t come in. Keep the gate closed! We – we need to go to the Kingdom, we need a doctor and-‘

‘Let go of me, what the hell is going on,’ Daryl grunts as he tries to push his brother off of him. ‘Carl, Jesus Christ. Let go! _Let_ _go_!’

‘Now, now, boys,’ a deep voice rumbles when the gate finally opens.

Daryl freezes. He stares into his brother’s wide eye.

‘I’m sorry, Carl whispers, ‘I’m sorry, please – please, Dare, don’t look, we can leave, just-‘

Slowly, Daryl turns his head.

Negan raises his hand and wags his finger from left to right with a big grin on his face. ‘No fighting.’

 

 

 


	41. Ugly things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the support on the last chapter! amazing.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Before Daryl can react to anything, Carl bumps into him to grab his gun and yank the bow off his shoulder. He has a wild look in his eye and backs away slowly, ‘I’m sorry,’ he says, sounding out of breath when his brother looks at him. ‘I’m _so_ sorry.’

‘You will be.’

‘Dare.’

‘Don’t call me that,’ Daryl tells him. ‘We’re done.’

‘Dare, please, I understand but-‘

‘Let me look at you,’ Negan says. One corner of his mouth curls upwards in that demonic grin of his. Everything is different about him. Hair going gray at the temples and no longer slicked back, his beard grown out. He’s wearing a jumpsuit that used to be orange, a white shirt and sneakers instead of his military boots. He doesn’t carry a single weapon. Not his Lucille on his shoulder, not his hunting knife that was as big as Daryl’s forearm at the time. The smile hasn’t changed though. It’s still that strange muddle of affection and insanity that chills anyone to the bone. ‘ _Look_ at _you_!’ he sounds in awe as he gestures at the teenager, ‘my _boy_!’

The sound of running footsteps introduce both Rick and Rosita. The former cop is panting, sweat has drenched his shirt and his hand is on his trusted python as his gaze flickers from Negan to his son and then to Daryl. He staggers, mouth moving as he searches for the right words before his hand goes to his heart, covering it. ‘Dare –‘

‘Look Rick!’ Negan booms, ‘look who came to greet me at the gate! A taste of fresh air, the sun on my face again, my little prince knocking on my front door? Today is a _good_ day!’

 ‘Shut up,’ Rick snaps. He slowly walks forward, his hand going from his heart towards Daryl. It reminds the teenager of how a lot of farm hands approach Khamsin, who holds the nickname of Devil thanks to her flaring temper. Whispered praises and held out hands to not spook her. ‘Dare,’ Rick says but then falters like he doesn’t know how to continue. The blue eyes scan the Dixon to try and pick up any cues.

‘He still has his knife,’ Carl says.

Rick’s gaze snaps to him. He nods before focusing on Daryl again.

‘It’s so good to see you, killer!’ Negan shouts. ‘I was worrying you’d forgotten about your old man – you haven’t come to see me in a while! Too busy changing diapers, huh? I don’t blame you. We can just pick up where we left off. I can’t _wait_!’

‘I’m going to kill you.’

Even Negan seems to balk at the quiet statement made by the teenager. He looks at Rosita, then puts his hand over his heart and rolls on shoulder back, lifting his eyebrows. ‘Ex-fucking-cuse me, young man?’

Daryl pulls the knife out of its sheath. He lets it balance on the palm of his hand for a second before gripping it tightly and looking up. ‘You heard me. You’ve had your chances.’ He looks at Rick. ‘And so have you. Move aside.’

‘No,’ Rick says with a shake of his head. ‘No, we can work this out.’

‘No, we can’t.’

‘He’s not free,’ Rick says. ‘We didn’t set him free, he’s our prisoner. He’s working in our community, we need the muscle. If we keep him locked in a cell forever, he’ll never adjust to the way things are now – you have to understand! He’ll do – he’ll do community service.’

‘Do you even hear yourself?’ Daryl asks. ‘Community service? That’s what he gets for killing Tyreese and Sacha. For Abraham. For Glenn. That’s what burning Eric alive gets you now? Killing Carol? Everyone else we miss today. _One_ year in lock-up and _community service_.’

‘Nothing will ever be enough,’ Rick says, hand over his heart again, ‘I _know_ that, but-‘

‘Step aside,’ Daryl orders.

‘You know I can’t.’

Daryl nods. He looks at his blade and then at the man he’d looked up to all of these years. ‘Were you ever going to tell me? Do you lock him up when I radio that I’m coming by, is that what you’ve done these past couple of months?’

‘No,’ Rick says. ‘I wasn’t going to tell you. Not for a while at least.’

‘Right, because you don’t trust me. You keep saying all this shit about how there shouldn’t be secrets between us, how proud you are of me, how much you love me. It’s all bullshit. It’s all to keep pushing your own agenda, to soothe your own goddamn conscience, to silence that little voice inside your head that says that this ain’t right.’ Daryl sucks on his teeth and shakes his head. He laughs humorlessly. ‘I tried so fucking hard. I jumped through every goddamn hoop you needed me to since I were twelve and every time you let me down I was like; he’s doing it for me. He’s doing what’s best for me, I just can’t see it or I can’t understand it yet.’ He gathers saliva on his tongue and spits it the grass while he puts his knife back in its sheath. ‘That ends now. You’re not doing this for me. You don’t give a shit about me.’

‘I do. Of course I do!’

‘No. If you did, you would have sat me down and talked to me. You wouldn’t have gone behind my back to do _this_.’

Negan whistles, ‘killer has a point, Rick. You didn’t even tell him I’m a free man? That is shitty!’

‘Shut up!’ Rick snaps. ‘You’re _not_ a free man.’

Daryl grits his teeth.

‘Sure feels like it,’ Negan says. He laughs. ‘The other day? Oh man, I was sipping some hot chocolate – y’all didn’t have those tiny marshmallows so that was a huge fucking disappointment, but I’ll let it fucking slide for just this once -  but I was sitting by the fire: I had my hot chocolate. I helped Judith make a huge fucking snowman. What’s the widow’s kid called? Maybe I can help them make a snowman, too.’

With a grunt, Daryl starts running.

‘Get him out of here!’ Rick yells over his shoulder at Rosita, who yanks Negan backwards and towards the prison. The order causes the cop to be a second too late. He grunts when Daryl’s fist connects with his jaw. He manages to dodge the second blow but realizes his mistake almost immediately, but still not quick enough.

Daryl hooks his boot behind Rick’s like Shane had taught him and yanks it back. Another blow to Rick’s shoulder and there’s nothing that prevents the cop from going down. Instead of stepping back like Shane had said, removing himself from the threat, Daryl lets himself fall to his knees, straddling the man beneath him.

Rick brings up his arms to shield his face.

‘Dad!’ Carl throws Daryl’s bow on the ground before he starts running too.

Daryl brings his fists down, hitting Rick anywhere he can. Knuckles scraping over bared forearms, sometimes catching the side of the man’s head or his shoulder. ‘ _I hate you_ ,’ he screams. He manages to grab Rick’s wrists when the man’s defenses break and pins them beside him.

Rick looks scared.

Daryl stares at him, panting. ‘I _hate_ you,’ he repeats, softly now.

‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Fuck you,’ Daryl gets to his feet and wants to jump over Rick’s arms and run after Rosita, but he’s tackled to the ground by his brother. They grunt, both of their training kicking in. Daryl rolls with the blow until he’s out of his brother’s range. They both slide through the dirt, feet scrambling to get a grip before they can jump up.

Carl has his hands raised in an attempt to copy Rosita’s boxing posture. He moves to stand between the prison and his brother.

It almost makes Daryl laugh. ‘You think you can take _me_? Get the fuck out of my way!’

One of Carl’s hand goes to his gun.

‘Oh, you’re going to kill me, brother?’ Daryl asks.

‘ _Rick_!’

Daryl glances to the side.

Michonne and Paul come running. The woman goes to her boyfriend and helps him to sit up. There’s blood dripping from his eyebrow and one of his arms is curled around his ribs. His eyes are still on the Dixon teenager though as he grabs hold of Michonne’s arm so she can help him to his feet.

Paul goes to Carl instead. A hand on his shoulder, forcefully pushing him out of the way and taking his place. The leather duster, his hair falling past his shoulders, his beard neatly trimmed as always. ‘It’s okay, Carl,’ he says in that soothing way he has, ‘stand aside.’

Daryl grits his teeth. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

Paul holds up his hands in mock surrender and wriggles his fingers. ‘Running from my problems. You?’

‘Same. Ran straight into another, but I can fix this one once and for all. _Move_.’

‘I can’t do that, Daryl.’

‘Don’t think I won’t hurt you,’ Daryl says as he readjusts his grip on his knife.

‘I’m not worried about Negan. If you do this, it will change _you_ ,’ Paul urges. ‘Don’t give him that. Put the knife away and we’ll talk.’

‘Nah. I did everything everyone asked of me, and all I wanted is for him to be locked up for good. Why is he out here? Half of the shit he’s sayin’ ain’t true, I fucking know that,’ Daryl snaps when Paul opens his mouth. ‘He’s trying to rile me up. Don’t think I don’t know his mind games. I fell for them once. Won’t happen again.’

Paul’s hands slowly go back down. ‘Daryl, please…’

‘I didn’t care anymore! It was enough; him locked away, never getting to see a _glimpse_ of this new world we’re building. Let him rot, I thought. Let him rot in his pathetic cell, all alone. I hope he’s cold, I thought. _I hope he’s fucking freezing like I was_!’ Daryl shouts with tears burning in his eyes. ‘I’m going to make this world ten times better than he ever could! I’m going to bust my balls and I’m gonna be better and _I’m going to make them all fucking proud of me_!’ He wipes a stray tear away angrily. ‘What a fucking joke.’

‘They _are_ proud,’ Paul says softly.

‘That’s what they say so you stop paying attention to what they’re really up to. It’s a trick and I fell for it. Shame on me.’ Daryl’s gaze is drawn to the street where the prison is located. He sees that Rosita comes running back while several men take their positions guarding the entrance.

He lost his window.

Another opportunity: wasted.

Daryl lowers the knife. ‘You stalled me.’

‘Yes,’ Paul comes walking towards him, one careful step after another. Unlike Rick, he’s not eyeing the knife though. He’s not afraid, just wary. ‘We have to _talk_ this out. Killing Negan now?  It’s not worth it, Daryl.’

‘It is,’ he insists. ‘He doesn’t deserve it.’

‘We’re not doing it for him. We’re doing it for us. For Hershel and Judith, and every child born into this world.’

‘He can’t have a piece of it,’ Daryl says. ‘It’s not fair.’

‘I know it’s not,’ Paul whispers when he’s close enough to wipe the tears from the young man’s face. Leather on those cold cheeks, brushing over that beauty spot before the fingers curl around his neck and draw him close.

Daryl lets himself be drawn into the embrace. He breathes his friend in, finding comfort in his warmth and the familiar scent of leather and the man’s hair. He doesn’t care that everyone is watching, he closes his eyes and lets Paul take most of his weight. Soft lips press against his temple, the rough hair from his beard tickles the side of his face.

‘Let’s go home,’ Rick says. ‘We can talk about this.’

Daryl reluctantly let’s go of his friend. He looks back at the leader of Alexandria. ‘I ain’t talkin’ to you no more.’

Michonne steps forward to shield her boyfriend from the cutting glare. ‘Daryl, please understand. If we keep him locked up, he’s no use to us. This way, he can help build something _good_ in this world. He can start making amends.’

‘Because people are a resource.’

‘Yes.’

‘He’s inside your heads!’ Daryl shouts. ‘Don’t you fucking get it? He’s going to play dumb, do his stupid chores to build your dumbass fantasy community and he’s going to get it all back! Open your eyes! _He’s going to get it all back_!’ Paul’s hand curls around his shoulder, dragging him back to keep him away from Michonne. Instead, he can feel Paul’s chest press against his shoulder blades, one arm now slides across his waist to lock him place. ‘ _And It’s gonna be Judith next, because there are_ rules _and we broke them and it’s gonna_ -‘

‘Enough,’ Paul says into his ear. ‘Please, Daryl. Enough for now.’

There are tears in Michonne’s eyes.

Rick has his hand folded over his eyes but he lowers it to cover his mouth for just a moment. His eyes shimmer when he looks at Daryl. ‘People can change.’

‘I’m done talking to you,’ Daryl says as he shrugs Paul off. The man lets go immediately but stays close. ‘Give my gun back, right now. And if my bow is messed up ‘cause you threw it…’ he glances at Carl and sucks on his teeth.

The teenager glances at his father before walking over and holding out the gun. ‘Dare, we didn’t want-‘

‘I’m serious,’ Daryl says as he checks the weapon’s safety. ‘Stop calling me that. We’re _done_.’

Rick steps forward. ‘You want us to talk to you but you _never_ listen!’

Daryl slowly looks at Rick, who looks like he regrets his outburst already. ‘ _I_ don’t listen? He is still alive, ain’t he? _You_ keep changing the rules! Why is this your fucking pet project, huh? It ain’t enough to build something out of nothing. Ain’t enough to rebuild a whole goddamn society after everything went to shit. Ain’t enough to just mourn our people and look to the future. No. You just have to fix _everything_. You have to be the lord and savior of all mankind, including him.’ Daryl shakes his head. ‘Can’t fix this, Rick.’

‘I can try.’

‘You did and you changed the rules on me. You’re not holding your end of the bargain, Rick,’ he says while narrowing his eyes. ‘Means I don’t have to keep mine neither. I see him again, I’ll cut you down to get to him faster. You, and everyone who stands in my way.’ One last lingering look and then he heads out. He picks his bow up, throws it over his shoulder and ducks into the forest.

It doesn’t surprise him that Paul follows.

They walk until they reach the crossroads.

‘I don’t wanna hear it,’ Daryl says as he looks to the right where Hilltop is, left at the Kingdom, the Sanctuary straight ahead. It’s getting dark. It took him almost two days to get here from Washington. The nearest safe house is still a couple of miles away.

‘I was trying to talk sense into Michonne before you arrived.’ Paul steps up beside him. ‘We both got to that nasty surprise at the gates. I just thought I’d stop by after visiting Beth. I should have called ahead.’

‘Months ago, before winter,’ Daryl says, ignoring his words, ‘Maggie suddenly wanted to come visit Alexandria. She went down there to talk to Negan. Later, she came to my room, cryin’. She said she didn’t understood why Rick thought he could change. Said that Negan had apologized to her.’

Paul peeks at him from the corner of his eye.

Daryl shivers. ‘I think she’s trying to forgive him.’

‘I think so, too.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Daryl says softly.

‘Anger is an ugly thing,’ Paul says, ‘and a heavy burden to carry. Being angry won’t bring Glenn back, it won’t undo anything he has done. That anger doesn’t hurt him, it hurts _her_. It drains you. She wants him out of her thoughts, out of her life. She just wants it to be over.’

‘I want that too, but what he did ain’t right and-‘

‘Of course it wasn’t right, but you don’t forgive people for doing the right thing, Daryl. He’s done terrible things. Nothing will ever erase that, but if you live with that anger? That hatred? You’re giving him more power while it eats you up from the inside out.’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl says as he scans the tree line. He opens and closes his mouth before wrapping his arms around himself and staying silent.

‘Say it,’ Paul urges softly. ‘It’s just us out here. And Shane,’ he adds with a small smile.

Daryl’s eyes fill with tears. ‘It feels like betraying Glenn if I try to forgive him.’

‘Maggie said the same thing. I think you both know what Glenn would have wanted.’

‘He’d want us to be happy. Safe.’

‘Yes.’

 Daryl shoots him a watery smile and wipes the tears from his cheeks. ’I’m glad you’re here, even though it was kind of fucked up you took their side.’

‘I didn’t take their side,’ Paul says. ‘You would have regretted hurting Carl.’

‘Probably.’ Daryl brings his hand to his mouth and chews on his thumb. ‘I ain’t going back if that’s what you were going to try and get me to do.’

‘That’s fine, you don’t have to right away. Do you want to go home?’

‘No, I’ll radio Maggie ‘nd Merle that I’m staying out longer.’

‘Sure, so where are you going? The Kingdom? Or see Beth? I could come with you.’ Paul spreads his arms and smiles, ‘we could go anywhere you want.’

Daryl shoots him a small smile but shakes his head. ‘Thanks, but I’m going back to Washington.’ He shifts the crossbow higher onto his shoulder. ‘Maybe you should go back to Hilltop, Paul. Take your own advice for once and stop running.’

The smile fades. ‘Did Alex say something to you?’

‘No. He’s pissed though.’

‘Right.’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl holds out his hand and laces their fingers together for a second, squeezing tightly before letting go again. ‘See you.’

‘You shouldn’t be out here on your own,’ Paul tries. ‘I could come with you, just until the border.’

Daryl laughs and adjusts his baseball cap, swiping the dark hair back under the brim. ‘I think I’ll be fine, man.’

 

 

It takes him two days to get back to the new colony. The guards don’t seem very surprised to see him back so soon and none of them says anything about how he broke protocol by not radioing Mason to let them know he’d visit. They don’t say anything at all. Dark eyes barely visible as they stand on the wall, faces hidden by scarves and hats. It’s still cold here. An icy wind blows through the city streets.

He’s glad to jog down the stairs and head to the metro station. The door is cracked open, he can slip right in. The guard sitting on the ground nearby is reading a book. He glances up for just a second, eyes going wide at the sight of the visitor but his posture relaxes when Daryl nods hello.

It’s dinner time.

On the one hand, he’s glad because it’s so easy to spot Taiwo. He’s sitting at the usual table with his friends. As usual, Felix seems to be the center of attention. He’s standing on the bench, one hand curled around an invisible ball while he pretends to run through a horde of other football players before slamming the ball down. He cheers dramatically for his own victory. One of his cousins used to play for a college team and he likes to tell the stories like it had all happened to him instead.

Hakeem and Vera seem to be trading snide remarks about it all, while Amaka laughs and claps when Felix takes a bow. Taiwo is the only one who doesn’t react at all. He scratches at the table with the blunt end of his knife. He looks bored and annoyed.

On the other hand, Daryl isn’t so pleased because the whole community is right there. He unzips his jacket and hoodie, tugs the scarf lower and then curls his hand around the band of his crossbow. Just when he thinks about hiding and waiting to catch Taiwo alone, Felix’s voice rings out.

‘Look what the fucking cat dragged in! Dixon!’

Taiwo’s head snaps up so fast that it spooks Hakeem.

Daryl bites on his lower lip and slowly walks over to their table. ‘Hey.’

Vera scoots over so the spot opposite Taiwo is free.

‘Did you find what you were looking for down there?’ Felix asks. ‘You better avoid Mason for a little while, he didn’t like you going out into the city alone again. I don’t really understand it either to be honest, we _live_ here. We know the way. I’d visit boring museums with you, no problem. And we’d have been able to help carry some shit back to the Kingdom – the school supplies?’ he adds when Daryl looks confused.

‘You just want to visit the Kingdom,’ Amaka says with a roll of her eyes.

‘The guy had a fucking tiger,’ Felix almost squeals, ‘of course I wanna go there!’

‘ _Had_ ,’ both Amaka and Taiwo snap.

‘But he’s a king! I wanna meet a king.’

Hakeem holds his hand out so Felix can kiss the back of it and looks smug.

‘Not you.’ Felix bats his hand away. ‘Who made you king anyway? You’re that guy who cracks jokes at court. The fool! You’re the fool!’

Hakeem jumps up and tries to smack him but Felix hides by scooting close to Taiwo and clinging to his arm. When his best friend doesn’t even react, Felix frowns. ‘Come on, man,’ he nudges Taiwo. ‘He’s back! He’s fine. Stop sulking.’

Taiwo’s cheeks darken. ‘I wasn’t sulking,’ he hisses.

‘He was sulking,’ Vera tells Daryl.

‘Leave him alone,’ Amaka says.

‘ _Oooh_ ,’ both Felix and Vera say while Hakeem drums on the table with his hands as if to create tension. ‘Don’t tease the twins, guys,’ Felix grins while Vera snorts. ‘Two for the price of one. We’re just saying… nothing.’ He sits down again and studies his nails after seeing Taiwo’s murderous look. ‘We didn’t say anything. What’s for dessert? No dessert? Bet they have dessert in the Kingdom, we should go find out sometime. Cool, cool.’

Vera is eyeing Daryl. ‘You look like shit by the way. And you’re still standing. Going somewhere?’

‘No, I just…’ Daryl sits down opposite Taiwo. His boyfriend goes back to scratching at the tabletop with the blunt end of his knife. ‘I’m kind of hungry, so-‘

Taiwo shoves his plate over to him. It’s still half full.

‘Romantic,’ Vera comments with her eyebrows high.

Taiwo tilts the knife her way.

‘Touchy!’ Felix scoots closer to the end of the bench.

‘ _Thank you_ ,’ Daryl says loudly to cut the nonsense off. Taiwo’s startled eyes flash to him. ‘Thank you,’ he repeats, softer now before starting to eat.

‘Yeah,’ Taiwo murmurs. ‘No problem.’

‘How’s Khamsin?’

Taiwo shrugs. ‘She tried to eat Felix so I gave her a treat. We didn’t really take her out, I was kind of scared we wouldn’t be able to get her back into the stables so… but she’s fine, Amaka and I took care of her while you were…’ he glances at the rest of the table, ‘looking for supplies.’

‘Thanks.’ Daryl scratches at his cheek. ‘Can we talk after dinner?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Okay.’

On the other end of the table, Felix complains about the devil of a horse that tried to take his hand. A dramatic retelling of the event follows, complete with Felix urging Vera to play Khamsin while Hakeem silently laughs at the pair of them. Amaka stretches her leg out beneath the table to kick her brother gently. Daryl can feel it happening but doesn’t say anything.

Taiwo smiles at his sister and sits up straighter, chin higher.

She smiles back before turning to Daryl. ‘How’s everyone back home? How’s Kiss?’

‘Great! He’s growing so fast, and he’s getting fast too! He’s crawling all over Barrington now. Sometimes he’ll just sit on a rug and grumble about something in his baby talk, it’s cute. We think he’s trying to imitate Merle. He sounds like an old, grumpy man,’ Daryl laughs.

‘Bet your brother loves that.’

‘Secretly.’

‘Of course,’ Amaka laughs.

They talk about Hershel and Maggie, about the watermill Merle had helped rig up, Beth who is now the doctor at the Sanctuary, all the trade going on between Oceanside and the Kingdom, the little fights he’d helped solve while traveling all over the place. He tells her gossip about people she doesn’t know and she does the same for him.

Taiwo doesn’t say much except make confirming noises whenever Amaka says ‘right, Tai?’ at the end of her sentences.

‘Did you see Carl? How is he?’

‘No,’ Daryl says as he pushes his plate away, ‘I didn’t run into him.’ He leans forward to catch Taiwo’s eye, ‘can we listen to some music?’

‘Code,’ Felix announces to the room, ‘that’s code for: I want to bang you hard! Everyone avoid the end of the train if you don’t want a show. If you do; Hakeem is selling tickets, the pervert.’

Hakeem signs wildly.

‘You are,’ Felix insists. ‘you’re a creep,’ he says in a lower voice, ‘people will believe it if you do it, maybe we’ll get some candy or something – shut up.’

Taiwo blushes but gets up and pulls Daryl along with him. ‘Yeah, okay. Sorry about them.’

‘I’m getting used to it. It doesn’t matter.’

‘They think it’s funny. There’s no stopping them, really.’

‘It’s fine.’

‘Okay.’ Taiwo throws another look over his shoulder to make sure none of their friends followed them. ‘I made that dumb story up, about you needing the school supplies and taking them to the Kingdom. I couldn’t think of anything better on the spot, sorry.’

‘Why did you make something up?’

Taiwo shrugs and pushes his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He looks away. ‘It’s kind of embarrassing to tell your friends that your boyfriend ran out on you ‘cause you were being a jealous dick. Amaka was already all over my ass about it, I didn’t need them sticking their noses in.’ He heads down the tunnel and jumps into his room, shrugging out of his jacket and turning the lights on.

‘Yeah, guess so,’ Daryl mumbles as he puts the crossbow near the door, throws his jacket over Taiwo’s on a chair and turns the heating on.

They fall onto the bed at the same time and stare up at the ceiling.

After a couple of minutes, Daryl scrunches up his nose. ‘You didn’t even let me explain anything.’

‘I know. I’m sorry.’

‘Whoever is telling these stories? They weren’t there. It didn’t happen like that. Rick ‘nd me found Paul out near a farm one day. We fought, he got knocked out, we hauled his ass back to Alexandria. He escaped the room and tried to find Rick. It was Paul who busted a naked Rick ‘nd Michonne. Nobody knew they were hookin’ up at the time. Story got all fucked up along the way, I guess.’

‘Oh.’

‘I did sleep in Paul’s trailer during the war. We didn’t have our rooms yet – we didn’t even officially live there. Gregory was an ass about us staying, so Paul just offered his space to us. I slept on the floor with Merle, Maggie got the bed ‘cause she were pregnant, right? He took the couch when it was free.’

‘It sounded like it happened yesterday.’

‘No, it was a long time ago. I have my own room.’

‘Yeah but – I don’t know. It just… sounded… plausible?’

‘You thought it sounded like something I’d do?’ Daryl asks with a frown as he turns to his boyfriend. ‘Cheat on you?’

‘No! Not cheat on me, but you sleeping in his trailer? I don’t know. Someone said it and at first I thought that there would be a logical explanation for that, but I kept thinking about it and it just got worse in my head and… I’m sorry.’

Daryl sighs. ‘Everyone’s always talking about me. You’re going to hear a lot more, and most of it will be bullshit. Just let me explain – you didn’t listen at all.’ He turns to his side so he can see Taiwo better. ‘I’ll try not to bring Paul up every two seconds, but he’s my friend – I’m going to mention him. I don’t want to lie about hanging out with him or whatever. _That_ is shady.’

‘Yeah.’ Taiwo turns to his side too. He carefully reaches out and traces Daryl’s stubbled cheek. ‘Where did you go, really?’

‘Alexandria,’ Daryl murmurs. ‘I wanted to talk to Carl.’

‘Holy shit, you _walked_ to Alexandria?’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl grins. ‘I didn’t mean to at first, I was just mad. I just wanted to get to the forest but then I just… kept going?’

Taiwo rolls his eyes, ‘no wonder you look like shit. Are you still hungry? Shit, I only gave you half a ration, I can get you more.’

‘I’m fine, I had some food with me, shot a bird – it’s fine.’

‘No way, I’ll go-‘

Daryl scoots closer and throws his leg over Taiwo’s. ‘It’s fine. Stay.’

Taiwo shoots him a doubtful look but settles back down, one hand covering Daryl’s thigh. ‘Okay. Alexandria. Right.’ He frowns, ‘you said you hadn’t seen Carl.’

‘He wasn’t home.’

‘Oh.’ A small grin forms on his face. ‘Christ, Vera wasn’t joking. You look like shit.’

‘You always say that!’ Daryl cries out when he stomps his boyfriend’s shoulder. ‘You always say that when I come here.’ He runs a hand over his face, ‘it’s probably true now though, I feel like shit too. Or maybe it’s just the sharp contrast,’ he says as he reaches out to touch Taiwo’s chin, his cheekbone, his dark hair. ‘You’re just too handsome.’

Taiwo presses his face into his pillow and peeks at him with one eye. ‘You think so?’

‘Hell yeah.’

‘Oh – thanks.’

‘Like you don’t know that,’ Daryl chuckles. He reaches down and undoes the laces on his boots before kicking them off. He helps Taiwo get his off too.

‘It’s nice to hear it.’

Daryl leans closer and whispers against his cheek ‘handsome, handsome, handsome,’ before peppering him with kisses.

 Taiwo laughs and pushes him onto his back, leaning close to breath against Daryl’s cheek ‘you look like shit, you look like-‘

Daryl chuckles while wrapping his arms and legs around his boyfriend. ‘Jealous, jealous, jealous!’

‘Mine, mine, mine,’ Taiwo growls playfully into his skin.

Daryl bites his ear softly in retaliation. He stares into the big, dark eyes of the other boy and lets their foreheads rest together.

 

 

Daryl walks through the door and wrinkles his nose at the sight of seven men kneeling in front of the drain. It’s easy to spot Glenn, Rick and Shane. Their eyes go big when they see him, their breathing picks up but they can’t say anything because of the gags.

‘Hurry up,’ Gareth tells him.

Daryl steps up behind Glenn. ‘Don’t worry,’ he says before he swings the bat. ‘Lucille is hungry.’

 

 

He wakes up screaming.

 

 

The Governor sits in his chair and strokes Judith’s hair. He calls her his little girl and doesn’t mind the chains that rattle whenever she moves, or the clumps of blonde hair that come out and stick to his fingers. Judith’s skin is cracked, rotting, gone in places.

‘Please no,’ Daryl whispers.

The door bursts open and Michonne strides in.

One fell swoop of the katana and his sister is gone for good.

 

 

He wakes up.

 

 

The devil from his fever dreams sits on his shoulder and giggles when Rick pleads for Carl’s life. They’re back in Alexandria, but this time Rick doesn’t have to choose. Daryl is standing next to Negan and has a bat named after Will. He thought it was fitting enough. They leave the same marks on people.

‘Take me!’ Rick pleads.

‘This is just going to make you sad,’ Negan says. ‘Broken,’ he adds before killing Carl.

Daryl steps up behind Rick and swings his bat. Blood splatters onto the grass. Daryl shrugs when Negan whoops with joy, ‘he said; take me, right?’

‘That’s right, killer!’ Negan beams. ‘He did!’

 

 

He wakes.

 

 


	42. of Alexandria

 

* * *

 

 

Taiwo looks exhausted.

Daryl doesn’t doubt that he himself looks even worse. He’s leaning against the doorpost of the train car after smoking a cigarette near the air vents, the closest thing this community has to a window. He’d hoped his boyfriend had gone back to bed to catch some sleep at last. It doesn’t surprise him that Taiwo is sitting on the edge of the bed instead, a couple of blankets draped over his naked shoulders, his hand covering his mouth while he yawns.

Daryl can’t remember how many times he’d woken up screaming last night. Six. Seven times, maybe. Clammy with sweat, heart racing, muscles sore from tensing and trashing during the night, voice raw. The first time he’d woken in the dark, disorientated and then scared by Taiwo’s frantic questions, the hands coming to rest on his shoulder too soon. The second time, his boyfriend had turned the oil lamp on before trying to wake him by tugging at the blankets which resulted in the nightmare morphing into a panic attack. The third time, there was light and he was pouring water by his own nightstand – a safe distance away. The times after that are just muddle of light, warmth and him apologizing profusely for waking the other boy up yet again.

‘I’ll sleep in the other room tonight,’ Daryl says, voice still raw and almost reminding him of all the times it had cracked while on the road, resulting in merciless teasing from Abraham. ‘If Mason will let me stay of course.’

‘Why would he send you away?’ Taiwo asks. He rubs at his left eye sleepily and squints up at his boyfriend just in time to see him shrug. ‘You don’t have to sleep in another room for me, if that’s why you’re saying it. I always think it’s nice when there’s someone right there when I go back to sleep after a nightmare, and I think I got the hang of waking you up the right way, so…’

Daryl walks over. Fingers gliding into the soft curls, scratching at the base of his boyfriend’s neck as Taiwo leans forward to let his forehead rest against the softness of Daryl’s belly. ‘Thank you.’

‘Of course.’ Taiwo tilts his head up so his chin rests on Daryl’s belt buckle. ‘You said you hadn’t had them in a while when you first stayed over…’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl says, fingers playing with the curls. ‘Why don’t you get some more sleep, and I’ll do your chores today?’

Taiwo sighs. ‘Like you aren’t tired as fuck,’ he mutters before gently pushing him back by his hips and getting up. He clips the doa to his belt and slides a knife into a hidden sheath. ‘I’ll be fine.’

‘How long will it take you to do that thing for Mason?’

‘Two hours – the other guy is meeting me half-way, so I won’t have to run very far. It’s near that place I showed you the other time. The apartment with the zip line?’

‘The fuck place?’

Taiwo snorts. ‘Yeah.’

Daryl nods. ‘That the only thing you need to be doing today?’

‘I think so.’

‘Cool,’ Daryl grabs a backpack from the ground and throws it at Taiwo, who catches it easily. ‘Hurry, I’ll go take care of Khamsin and help out in the kitchen until you get back. When you do, we’re going straight back to bed for the rest of the day.’

‘A pajama day?’ Taiwo asks with a laugh. ‘Music, art and making out in between? Sounds like a good idea. Try to swipe some of those herbs for that tea you’d made last time, I kind of wasted all my extra food points on getting Khamsin some carrots. We shared though so-‘

Daryl pulls him close by the arm and kisses him. ‘You’re amazing.’

‘And back soon,’ Taiwo grins before stealing another kiss. He darts out of the room. It doesn’t take long for his footsteps to fade into the white noise of the community.

Daryl sits down on the bed for a moment. He runs his fingers over his face, pushing them gently into his burning eyes before yawning. All of his limbs feel heavy. The palms of his hands hurt because he’d been clenching his fists during the nightmares. Half-moon crescents in tender skin. It takes him a while to get up again and head out, too.

Working with Khamsin always helps. He can’t take her outside, there’s nowhere for her to run inside the community and he doesn’t feel confident to take her into the woods in his state. Too fuzzy around the edges, not sharp enough to spot rabbit holes or even tangled up walkers in bushes. She seems annoyed but never stays mad at him for long.

‘I’ll take you out soon,’ he promises while cleaning out her stall and refreshing the water. ‘Did Taiwo and Amaka keep you company, huh? Yeah. We like them. They’re nice. And Taiwo even had carrots for you? Pssh. Spoiled. Hey!’ He pushes her back when she accidentally bumps into him. ‘Get your fat ass out of my face!’

‘Is he calling you fat? What an asshole!’

Daryl startles at the voice but relaxes when Amaka jumps up onto the half-door, swinging her legs over to sit there comfortably. Her curls have been captured in big braids that spill over her shoulders. Instead of her usual armor made of sand-colored leather, she’s wearing baggy jeans and a big hoodie. Hands reach out for Khamsin, who pushes her nose into the girl’s belly in search of treats.

‘I don’t have anything for you this time,’ she tells the horse by showing her empty hands. ‘Sorry.’ She grins at the teenager. ‘Hey! I heard you were looking for me?’

‘Hey,’ Daryl says as he walks over to the front of the stall, one hand on his horse’s flank to let her know he’s still there. ‘Yeah, I felt kind of bad about last night – you didn’t come back to the room. I didn’t mean to kick you out of your own bedroom like that.’

‘Oh, no problem, Hakeem gave me his bed and just _jumped_ at the opportunity to share with Vera.’ They share a laugh and Amaka shrugs. ‘Though maybe next time let me grab some stuff first?’ she plucks at the hoodie, ‘I had to borrow clothes from Felix. It’s my day off, I didn’t want to wear my armor all day.’

‘I’m so sorry – you could have just come in, we weren’t… err,’ he scratches at the back of his neck, ‘you could have just come in,’ he repeats awkwardly before laughing.

‘I know I could have – I mean I could have knocked, but I don’t need to see my brother all blissed out first thing in the morning, so…’

‘You wouldn’t ha– I’m sorry,’ Daryl laughs as he leans against the door and watches his horse. ‘I didn’t mean to chase you out of your own space like that. I’ll ask Mason if I can take the guestroom again. If we’re in your room, we’re just listening to music.’

‘That I can handle,’ Amaka says as she claps their hands together after Daryl offered his. ‘Thanks.’

‘Of course. I’m used to Merle and Carl just crashing in whenever, so I didn’t really think about it. And thanks for taking care of Khamsin for me.’

‘Sure. It was a bit of a surprise to find her still here after you took off, but a nice surprise.’

Daryl hoists himself onto the half-door next to her. ‘Is this the part where you’re going to threaten to bust my balls if I hurt him again? Never really had that talk before, so I’m not sure.’

Amaka shoots him a grin. ‘Not really, he can have that conversation with you himself. Just know I’ll always help him hide a corpse.’

‘For the record, this time it was your brother being the asshole.’

‘Oh, I don’t doubt it, but he’s still my brother so I’ll just help him hide your corpse anyway.’

‘I mean, Merle would approve,’ Daryl laughs, ‘honestly, I think Beth would be the only one on my side who’d grumble a bit while burying Taiwo, so… Fair’s fair.’ He looks at her. ‘I like your braids, by the way.’

‘Sucking up won’t save you,’ she warns before knocking their shoulders together. ‘Thanks, they’re called Havana twists, my friend did them last night. It protects my hair.’

‘Right,’ Daryl says while chewing on his lower lip. He’s not sure what kinds of threats hair would need protecting from.

‘White boy.’

‘Hey!’

‘What?’ Amaka giggles, ‘it’s true!’

‘Well, yeah… but you don’t have to say it like _that_.’

‘Of course I do,’ Amaka kicks her boot against his. The smile fades from her face. ‘I thought you looked rough because you’d slept one night up in a tree or something to get here, but you don’t look much better now. Is everything okay?’

Daryl nods. ‘Everything’s fine. I didn’t sleep so great – Taiwo snores.’

‘He does not!’

‘He talks in his sleep though, that’s kinda creepy.’ Daryl scratches at his cheek. ‘Also, before you bury my ass in a ditch somewhere; not everything people are saying is true.’

Amaka sighs and rolls her eyes. ‘I know that, and I already told him that! He just heard some stupid rumors. He didn’t believe them at first – I don’t think he ever believed them, but people were teasing him with it. It was dumb. I told him to radio you if he was so worked up about it, but he didn’t want to look... you know... stupid or something. Or like he didn’t trust you.’

Daryl hums softly.

‘A couple guards meet the Kingdom’s soldiers at the border every couple of weeks to trade something and talk face to face about the herds and stuff. They come back with half a story and make the rest up. I doubt the guards from the Kingdom even know what’s really going on, so it’s a botched up story from the start. He knows that.’

‘Good.’ Daryl glances at her, ‘I told y’all last time; the one-question rule doesn’t apply to all y’all. If you hear something weird, you can just ask me whether it’s true. I don’t want any weird shit to mess things up again.’

‘We know,’ Amaka assures him. ‘Don’t remind Felix though, he’ll go get his list from underneath his pillow or something. He can’t wait to visit the Kingdom.’

Daryl smiles at his boots. He chews on his bottom lip. ‘Well, maybe you could all come and see.’

‘With the harvest festival, you mean? I thought that was held at Alexandria.’

‘Yeah – no, I mean… any time. Like, whenever,’ Daryl mutters as he cleans his fingernails, ‘if you want. I could show you around. There won’t be anyone from my family there or nothing, but Ezekiel is there of course. Jerry. Bunch of other people. And I don’t mean that it’s like… I mean – if we run into Rosita or Tara or whoever, that’s fine of course… I ain’t keeping nobody as a secret but with, like Merle ‘nd Maggie? It’s just different so if-‘

‘Can you shut up?’ Amaka turns on the door and looks at him with barely contained excitement. A smile splits her face in half. Fingers squeeze her own knees to keep them from shaking. ‘We can visit the Kingdom? You’d let us visit the Kingdom? Really?’

‘Yeah – of course.’ He frowns. ‘You don’t need my permission to go there.’

She squeals, her heels kicking against the door. It spooks Khamsin, who jumps back but looks curious. ‘That’s so _cool_! I can’t wait to go ask Mason if we can go. When? When can we go?’

‘Good lord,’ Daryl laughs, ‘when you’ve calmed down some, you’re freaking my horse out. I don’t know – maybe-‘

‘Tomorrow?’

‘What? No!’ He gives her shoulder a light shove, ‘get out of here!’

‘Why not?’

Daryl chews on his lip. ‘I don’t know… There’s some stuff I need to sort out first, but soon, okay?’

‘Okay, fine,’ Amaka pretends to study her nails, ‘I don’t even care anyway.’ The façade fails when she giggles and squeals again, ‘wait until Felix finds out we can go! He’ll _freak out_.’

‘Does that mean that I will get to go to one of your other stations?’ Daryl asks. ‘I want to see the one that’s above ground!’

‘Because you’re scared of the tunnels?’

‘I ain’t scared!’

‘Taiwo said they freak you out!’

‘I don’t know who that is, sounds like a douchebag,’ Daryl grins. ‘And no,’ he rolls his eyes, ‘it ain’t because I’m scared, because I’m _not_! I just want to know what else y’all got. Taiwo said it had food and animals. Alexandria will need some help with their food situation even when the harvest comes, and they got good shit to trade in return, so maybe I can work something out for both sides.’

‘They do have all that! They have a farm going on in one of the parks! You’ll tell Carl to go easy on us, right? Give us a good deal?’

‘I only make good deals.’

‘For _your_ side, yeah!’ Amaka teases. ‘You got those vaccines cheap.’

‘We did,’ Daryl agrees. ‘I’ll make one in your favor next time. And if you – like, you, Taiwo, Felix, Vera, and Hakeem ever need something, or just want... you just gotta holler.’

‘I want Khamsin. I’ll trade you Taiwo.’

Daryl snorts and jumps off the door. ‘It don’t work like that, ya dork. I already got Taiwo!’

 

 

There’s music softly playing in the background. Daryl sharpens one of his pencils with a hunting knife while Taiwo works on one of the maps with a marker. Whole city blocks have been blacked out. Most of them were bombed during the final days of the old world. Others were set aflame during riots, or by people trying to lock walkers into warehouses to exterminate them. The fire spread when the walkers just walked out of the flames when the walls finally collapsed.

Taiwo likes to explore the city. He keeps track of which bridges are still functional, knows which houses are booby-trapped and can find a way into the tunnels blindfolded. Most days he runs to different stations with letters in his backpack, goods they need someplace else, or with people who need to relocate for whatever reason. When he’s not needed by Mason, he wanders through the city and keeps the maps up-to-date.

The map is spread out on the bed. Unlike Mason, Taiwo doesn’t seem to care whether Daryl sneaks a peek or not. He works diligently, blacking out half a block on the other side of town, which causes Daryl to marvel at how far he goes every day. Safe houses are marked on the map, but he can’t find the apartment with the zip-line anywhere.

The area around the White House is red. It belongs to the other group living in the city. Other houses have been colored red, too and Daryl guesses they’re their safe house or guard posts. Taiwo yawns while he makes another block red.

Daryl is drawing. It’s the old trailer he used to live in with Merle and Will, only how he imagines it looks like now. Reclaimed by nature. The door hanging off its hinges, vines creeping in through the cracked windows, a wild rabbit hiding under the tiny set of stairs outside. Wildflowers grow on the roof.

There’s hot tea on their nightstands. They’re wearing their jeans and shirts but their jackets and hoodies cover the chair near the door. Blankets are pooled in their laps and all around them.

Daryl is sitting back against the headboard now. He watches Taiwo closely. He bites on his lip and puts the drawing aside. ‘So… Err… Say someone did something bad, right? _Really_ bad. To you. Do you think you have to forgive them?’

‘No.’ Taiwo folds the map and throws it off the bed. ‘Why?’

‘Just something someone said to me yesterday. That hating someone just brings you down, it’ll eat you up – that you’re wasting energy on it, right? Hating someone all the time. So, you should forgive them for your own peace of mind. It’ll give you closure.’

Taiwo rolls over and props his head up by leaning on his elbow, hand in his unruly hair. ‘Sounds like some bullshit to me. I mean – yeah, if Amaka steals my last bit of chocolate, yeah, I will reach into my inner soul and find the strength in my heart to forgive her so I won’t spend days sulking over a piece of chocolate. If someone did something _really_ bad though? Fuck them.’

‘Yeah, but if you keep holding onto it, it’ll make you bitter. Cold. Right? You have to make peace with it.’

‘Why?’

Daryl frowns. ‘You just do.’

‘Don’t you have to make peace with the outcome, not with the one who did it?’

‘What?’

‘You have to accept; this fucking happened. This is my new reality now. You gotta learn to live with that. Our dad got killed during a raid. I’m not angry every day because of it. I miss him, of course, just like I miss our mom, but I’m not wasting energy on being angry. I don’t spend my entire days being angry at whoever killed him. That doesn’t mean I forgave them. Hell no. They killed my dad, fuck them! But our dad is gone, and I made my peace with _that_.’

Daryl chews on his thumb and nods.

Taiwo shoots him a small smile. He stretches his left leg and pokes at Daryl’s thigh with his sock-clad toe until the Dixon stills his foot and starts to massage his ankle.

‘I did that, I think,’ Daryl says. ‘After the war, I was so angry. Every day, all I could think about was how to kill him. I tried a couple of times but everyone stopped me. They helped me to focus on other things. I got back in shape, started doing my job, helped Maggie out at hilltop. Kiss was born. I found this place, you. Everything just got better, you know? There were whole weeks that I didn’t think about him. Not a single thought, no nightmares – _nothing_.’

Taiwo plucks at the blanket and nods.

‘Of course there are places that remind me, people who do messed up things to remind me, but… It wasn’t like before. Like – I didn’t… didn’t drown in it, just… that happened, he’s in his fucking cell, what’s next, ya know?’

‘So what changed?’

Daryl works his jaw for a moment. It’s hard to talk about this when Taiwo doesn’t know what’s going on, or what he’s talking about. Who he’s talking about. ‘Negan is locked in a cell at Alexandria,’ he says, glancing up at his boyfriend. ‘Rick is letting him out for community service.’

‘Carl’s dad? So crazy runs in the family?’

The Dixon snorts. ‘Yeah. He knew though. Carl. I said he weren’t home, but he was. I went to Alexandria and bumped into him outside of it. He was looking for gas or something. I thought he was acting kinda weird, all jumpy, and he kept saying how I should go back here, that we could go together… Gates of Alexandria open up to Negan smirkin’ in my face.’

‘So Rick’s the one preaching forgiveness?’

‘I don’t know. He said something about how you can’t lock people up for life, you gotta give them something to look forward to or something. I don’t know.’

‘So him having something to look forward to is more important than your peace of mind.’

Daryl shrugs.

Taiwo frowns. ‘I thought Rick was… I thought you were Rick’s, but Rick’s your… something?’

‘That’s what he said. Rick ‘nd Shane were best friends, I was Shane’s kid, right? So when he died, Rick took over, kinda. He always says I’m his son.’

‘ _Says_.’

 Daryl scratches at his chin. ‘The things he let me do, or asked me to do during the war? Carl didn’t have to do all that. He didn’t send Carl out on every mission, Carl didn’t –‘ he shakes his head. ‘I don’t care about that, I know I’m more… I could do all that, right? I _wanted_ to do it! It’s just… Shane wouldn’t have let me. Rick did.’

Taiwo nods his understanding.

Daryl looks down at his fingernails. He presses the one from his index finger into the pad of his thumb, hard.

His boyfriend nudges him with his foot again.

Daryl looks up. He hates how tears well in his eyes, hot and stinging. ‘If it had been Carl, Negan would have been dead.’

‘If it had been Carl?’ Taiwo asks softly.

‘If it had been Carl who’d been taken ‘nd tortured. If Michonne had been killed instead of Glenn, if Carl had to live with the idea that Judith ‘nd Rick were dead for months…’ he shakes his head and wipes the tears away, but they just keep spilling over his lashes. ‘If Carl had to use Lucille to make sure Sasha and Tyreese didn’t come back, if Carl had to _thank_ that monster for using Lucille at all, carry her around everywhere – making him _love_ that. Negan wouldn’t be alive now, if it had been Carl.’

Taiwo sits up and scoots closer.

‘Or if it had been him. None of that happened to _him_ ,’ Daryl bites out. ‘One year and he thinks everything’s fine. It doesn’t work like that.’

‘No. It doesn’t.’

He dries his tears and wipes his nose on the back of his hand. He takes a deep breath and bites on his thumb. Blue eyes glance up. ‘Sorry for… you don’t even know what’s going on, ‘nd I’m just dumpin’ it all on you and-‘

‘Stop it,’ Taiwo says. He crawls over, into his boyfriend’s lap. Knees next to Daryl’s hips, his hands going up to cup his cheeks. ‘I’m going to tell you what it sounds like to me, okay? This might be way off, but this is what I’ve been hearing; you’re _not_ Rick’s kid.’ He strokes his thumbs over Daryl’s cheeks, ‘and that’s fine. You don’t need him like you needed Shane or Glenn. You’re not a little kid anymore. You’re Daryl Dixon of Alexandria for Christ’s sake,’ Taiwo grins. ‘It’s time he starts to see you as an equal.’

A small smile tugs at the corner of Daryl’s mouth. ‘Yeah.’

‘Yeah?’ Taiwo leans down for a kiss. Then he shifts to sit next to his boyfriend, shoulders pressing together. ‘So now what? Are you going back to Hilltop to talk to Merle or Maggie about it?’

‘I guess I should go talk to Rick.  Paul said he’d been trying to talk sense into Michonne – maybe that helped too.’

‘Yeah. Maybe.’

Daryl looks at Taiwo from the corner of his eye.

Taiwo sucks on his teeth and wriggles his toes.

A small grin starts to bloom on the Dixon’s face.

‘I totally noticed the name, you fucking asshole,’ Taiwo laughs as he turns to his boyfriend to push him down onto the bed. ‘Paul, fucking Paul, our lord and savior Paul Rovia. Yeah, yeah yeah, whatever. You’re in _my_ bed.’

Daryl laughs and drags him down as well. ‘Stop. I didn’t mean anything by it. He’s my friend, you’re going to hear his name every now and then.’

‘I don’t really mind,’ Taiwo laughs, ‘you were just looking at me like I might explode or something. You’re such an idiot.’ He settles down half on top of the other boy, legs tangling together as Daryl hugs him tightly. ‘What’s that?’ Taiwo asks when something is muttered into his neck.

‘Can we sleep in the other room tonight?’

‘Sure,’ Taiwo says even though he sounds confused.

‘Okay,’ Daryl grins. ‘Cool. The music stopped. Is it okay if I put a new record on?’

They listen to Daryl’s favorite kind of music while sprawled on the bed, heads close together so they can make out when there’s a lull in the conversation. Stories about their lives before and during all of this. Daryl tells Taiwo stories about his family, and Taiwo does the same. They laugh and tease and kiss until there’s a knock on the door.

Amaka falls onto her own bed and starts complaining about something that makes Taiwo snigger. Daryl sits up against the headboard again and drags Taiwo into his lap so he can play with the dark curls. They talk about music, books, games they like. About chores they hate. Funny stuff they’ve found in people’s homes, weird things people asked them to find out in the old world, or how the Washington gang had raided a local theatre and had held an outrageous fashion show to boost morale just a couple of months ago.

Felix returns from his job and claims the spot next to Amaka on the bed. More stories about stuff they’d found in cupboards and had dared each other to eat until one of the adults found out. The time they’d gone swimming in one of those indoor tropical paradises, or when Vera had found a unicycle and had almost cracked her skull open when she fell for the millionth time.

Vera and Hakeem bring food and drinks for dinner. The girl climbs on Taiwo’s bed while Hakeem sprawls out over Felix, grabbing his hand and putting it on his own hair to they’re mimicking Daryl and Taiwo on the other end of the room.

Daryl blushes and pulls his hand back.

Taiwo sits up and kisses him deeply. Then he turns back to Hakeem with a raised eyebrow before looking pointedly at Felix.

Hakeem pretends to throw up.

‘Hey!’ Felix hits him. ‘I’m a great kisser. Come here!’

‘ _How_ are you a great kisser?’ Vera laughs, ‘did your pillow tell you that? Have you been practicing on your wrist? It’s not the same, you know. Practice makes perfect, but you’re not getting any.’

Felix opens and closes his mouth and then just sniffs. ‘You’re mean and nobody likes you.’

Hakeem slides off the bed and jumps onto Taiwo’s to curl up next to Vera.

‘You fucking traitor, I don’t even want to kiss you anymore! You don’t even _get_ to kiss me,’ Felix shouts while throwing a pillow towards that side of the room. ‘Fuck that side of the room, I got the better half right here.’ He rolls over to hug Amaka. ‘We’re best friends now. I mean, we already were, but, we’re like _best_ best friends now.

‘I feel so honored,’ Amaka says dryly.

Taiwo shifts until he’s between Daryl’s legs and leaning against his chest. He chats with Hakeem and translates the sign language for Daryl. Vera puts on new music and makes sure everyone eats theirs rations.

It’s hours later when Hakeem is already curled up and vast asleep. Felix is snoring on Amaka’s bed while the girl dozes next to him.

‘Do you still want to move to the other room?’ Taiwo murmurs sleepily.

‘Nah,’ Daryl pulls him closer. ‘Next time.’

‘Sure?’

Daryl kisses his shoulder. ‘Yeah, too tired now for what I had in mind.’

‘Oh, you had something in mind, hmm?’ Taiwo presses closer, ‘and what-‘

A foot kicks their legs. Vera scoots closer to Hakeem, ‘stop being gross over there.’

Daryl chuckles and buries his cold nose in the crook of Taiwo’s neck.

 

 

The gates of Alexandria open.

None of the guards says anything to him though most dip their chins in greeting when their gazes meet. A younger guy seems nervous. He shifts his weight and lets his fingers brush over the automatic rifle he’s holding awkwardly. He freezes when Daryl stops right in front of him, one hand twisted in Khamsin’s reins, the other holding onto the strap of his bow.

‘You’re gonna shoot yourself in the foot, holding it like that.’

‘I’m sorry?’ the guy asks.

Daryl drops the reins and adjusts the man’s grip. ‘Like that. Good lord, didn’t Rosita teach you nothing?’ He wipes his nose on the back of his hand. ‘Now go ‘nd tell Rick I’m home. I’ll meet him at our place.’

Without waiting for an answer, he leads Khamsin through the streets towards the stables. One of the men working there offers to help but seems relieved when Daryl tends to his horse himself. He turns her out after brushing her down, letting her run wild in the pen to burn off some more energy. She entertains some women by bucking wildly before trotting along the fence in the hopes that someone will give her a treat.

Daryl shakes his head and cleans her gear, stowing it in her stall.

On the way back, Judith spots him first. She runs through the fields while screaming his name, hands held out and a huge smile on her face. Cheeks red from the cold, rain boots slipping in the mud, her laughter loud and clear when he swings her around and around before hugging her tightly. They chat about the vegetables she’s planting with Michonne, where he’s been and how big Hershel is now. She giggles until he puts her back down and then pouts. After a mock glare, she runs back to the fields.

Out in the distance, Michonne watches the two siblings.

Daryl adjusts his baseball cap and keeps walking. It doesn’t surprise him that Rick is waiting for him on the porch, arms crossed in front of his chest and a thoughtful look on his weathered face. The closer he gets, however, the more worried and almost scared the older man seems to be. He hides it well, but Daryl can spot it anyway.

‘Daryl…’ Rick meets him half-way on the garden path but doesn’t seem to know what to do. Their usual hug now inappropriate, a handshake still too formal.

‘Can I come in or did you rent my room out to some asshole who should be six feet under instead?’

‘Of course you can come in,’ Rick says softly.

Daryl shrugs and walks past him. He dumps his backpack in the corner next to the couch and puts his crossbow down too. Then he walks to the kitchen, grabs a glass of water from the fridge and sits down at the kitchen table.

Rick moves more slowly. Eyes never quite meeting the teenager’s but he sits down across from his anyway. There are dark circles under his eyes. It seems to take him a lot of willpower to finally look up. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘That I found out like that?’

Rick shakes his head and then nods. ‘All of it.’

‘You should be.’

Rick flinches.

‘This whole stupid ass community service plan you have? It would have been fine in five years, one part of a day, under supervision. If it were up to me, he’d never see the light of day again. It’s not up to me, but it ain’t up to you either. It’s up to all of us, and nobody is ready for what you’re doing right now. I went with Beth to the Sanctuary and someone gave me a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire. They made me a Lucille, Rick. They’re settling for the second best but if they find out the real deal is walking around in Alexandria? Free?’

‘He wasn’t-‘

‘ _He didn’t look like much of a prisoner to me, Rick_!’

Rick closes his eyes for a moment.

Daryl bites on the inside of his cheek. ‘I’m sorry. Finish your sentence.’

Rick looks surprised.

‘You said I never listen, but you never bothered to talk to me about this either. So I’ll listen and you talk. After that? _I_ get to talk and _you_ listen. Deal?’

‘Deal.’

 

 

 


	43. That works

 

* * *

 

 

 

It’s the same story every time. Rick paints a beautiful picture of all the communities working together to create a whole new world in which everyone will thrive. There’s trade and weddings and children growing up, skipping through cornfields with only a knife on their belts. It has cleared roads and Alexandria is rebuild and all the power grids are up and running. Schools in session, hospitals stocked but hardly needed, everyone working and loving in harmony.

Daryl listens. Everything that Rick is talking about, he wants. It’s what he envisioned when he first started to believe in the new world that Carl had been talking about. A new world that his little brother could roam around in, free of fear and ghosts of the past. Thriving communities that will come to each other’s aide when needed, roads cleared for trade and bridges rebuilt for easy crossing. Every house lit up at night by solar, wind or water energy.

It’s what he’s been working so hard for over the past year. Every trip that would take him away from his family was worth it because it brought them all closer to that goal. Every blister on his tongue from trying to make a new trade deal happen was worth it. Every time he had to step over his own boundaries, push his own fears aside, choose the greater good instead of his own welfare. Everything will have been worth it, if Hershel can live in the new world.

He can’t let Rick jeopardize it all. So he listens, one hand curled around his glass of water so he won’t cross his arms and look so defensive. He bites his tongue to stop himself from interrupting the sheriff, toes digging into the soles of his boots until it hurts to keep the anger at bay. He listens, even though it isn’t easy.

‘We can do it,’ Rick insists. Blue eyes on the teenager, body language a conflicting mess of open and closed while he leans forward to emphasize his point. ‘We _are_ doing it.’

Daryl shakes his head. ‘We ain’t, man.’

‘There’s trade,’ Rick insists even though Alexandria is holding its hands up for food and giving nothing in return. ‘The communities are rebuilding.’

‘This ain’t about just walls and homes,’ Daryl says. ‘The fact that you repainted your house doesn’t magically fix the rest! There’s so much shit going on and you don’t see it because you’re _here_. And yeah, there are workers from the Kingdom coming to help you out, and the Sanctuary gave you more resources – _I_ arranged that for you. It ain’t out of the goodness of their hearts.’

‘It doesn’t _have_ to be out of the goodness of their hearts. We will repay them, that’s how the system will work.’

‘But you only see the good stuff that’s happening! We can clear roads and build bridges all day long – it doesn’t fix anything! You think everything’s fine now that things have quieted down at the Sanctuary? Fuck that, man. Oceanside still wants the saviors to pay for what they did to their men, if they get their hands on one of those soldiers? It’ll be a fucking bloodbath.’ Daryl leans forward. ‘We’ll be back to square one; the beginning of another war.’

Rick narrows his eyes. ‘You’d like that.’

‘Are you trying to make me mad?’

‘No. You want to kill-‘

‘Do you think I’d put my own vengeance above Hershel’s safety? That I’d gamble Maggie, Beth and Merle’s lives, or risk Judith’s? That I would risk all-out war again, knowing the price we paid the first fucking time around?’ Daryl asks, his voice growing louder and his hand squeezing the glass painfully. He takes a calming breath. ‘Nobody wants another war, and there doesn’t have to be one; _we won_. It’s over. Now we gotta work on makin’ peace with what’s left and what comes after, but you got to give people time, man. A year? That’s nothing. We need time to sort it all out for ourselves and then - maybe then we can start thinking about moving on. This isn’t like me ‘nd Carl where you’d just stick us into a cell together when we were mad at each other to force us to make up, man. It takes time.’

Rick shifts in his seat. ‘How much time?’

‘Five years, elven months, sixteen days, four hou- I don’t fucking know! It just takes longer than what you’re giving us, you asshole, and you’re risking _everything_. Why do you gotta fuck it all up? It’s slow-going but is was going good, man. Fuck. The people in Hilltop’s expansion? Hard-working people, they ain’t no saviors no more. They’re one of us now. You’re going to ruin everything if you don’t lock him up like you promised.’

Rick sets his jaw. ‘People need to know that you can come back, that it’s never too late to-‘

‘People need to know they can trust their leaders!’ Daryl snarls. He leans back in his seat. ‘Rick Grimes of Alexandria. The great and famous Rick Grimes, the one who liberated Hilltop, who avenged Oceanside’s men – the man who ended the war.’ Daryl tilts his chin higher. ‘You promised peace and prosperity, you spared his life to save our goddamn morality or whatever – but you promised to lock him up, Rick. What do you think Cyndie will do when she finds out he’s free? Do you think Ezekiel will agree to community service for the man who killed his forces, his tiger – the man who killed Benjamin and Carol?’

‘I could talk to them.’ Rick sounds so sure of himself. He nods and leans forward, ‘I could make them understand.’

‘Your word against mine then,’ Daryl says. ‘And every deal I’ve made for Alexandria, undone.’

Rick frowns. He opens his mouth, closes it and then says; ‘you’d let us starve?’

‘Ain’t on me. You’re free to make your own deals. It just helps when people like ya, you know? Maybe send Judith next time. Ezekiel has a weak spot for kids, he might throw you some extra scraps.’

Rick lifts his hand to squeeze the bridge of his nose. He sits like that for a minute, hand shaking and the skin turning white beneath his fingertips.

‘It doesn’t have to be like this,’ Daryl says. ‘I know I ain’t the right person to say whether sparin’ Negan’s life was the right thing to do or not, but you did it and I’ve accepted it. We all have, but don’t push it like this. A guy from Merle’s crew once thought he was bein’ screwed by this tweaker down the road. Killed him for it. Shot him in the head. Second degree murder, know what he got?’

’25 years in prison, minimum.’

‘Hmm-hmm. That’s _one_ guy. How many did Negan cut down?’ Daryl sighs. ‘We can move on and create that new world Carl is dreaming of, man, but only if we do it without Negan. He doesn’t have a place in it. He’s going to sit in his cell and watch it happen from an itty-bitty window and _wish_ he could be a part of it. Nobody needs him.’

The hand falls away. There are tears in Rick’s eyes.

Daryl shifts in his seat. ‘Everyone knows I worship the ground Paul walks on, and I’d do anything for Maggie – if they wanna try ‘nd forgive Negan? That’s their call. But they’re wrong about me. I ain’t being devoured by anger. It’s not makin’ me cold no more. I’ve accepted what he has done. Glenn is gone. Carol is, Sasha and Tyreese, Eric. They’re gone and I’ll miss them, but I ain’t angry about it no more. I thought of something Ezekiel said to me after the war. He said the saviors were his people now, his brothers and sister. When I asked what about Negan, he told me to pity him.’ Daryl waits a beat. ‘Yeah, fuck that, too.’

Rick snorts seemingly despite himself.

‘We don’t have to forgive him, or try to make him a better person, convince him that his way was wrong – fuck all of that. Let him rot in his cell. We don’t need him, Rick.’

‘I just wanted it to be all over,’ Rick says, voice rougher than before. ‘I’ve been having these talks with him – he’s... he’s changing. He’s sorry-‘

‘Nobody gives a shit whether he’s sorry, Rick, or whether he has changed. He’s getting in your head. Did he tell you about his dead wife yet? How he used to work with children? He were a teacher or something, right?’

‘Coach.’

‘Right.’ Daryl sucks on his teeth. He gets up. ‘Don’t get dragged in, Rick. Ain’t a good place. I’m gonna smoke a cigarette, grab some lunch someplace – give you some time to think and all that.’

Rick looks up. ‘You can have lunch here. Michonne and Carl will be back soon with Judith and-’

‘I don’t want to.’

Rick looks down at his hands and works his jaw. ‘Okay. I understand.’

‘Doesn’t feel like it,’ Daryl murmurs before walking out of the house. Instead of heading down the road, he walks through the garden towards the back of the house and walks along the wall. Some houses are still burned-out ruins, while others are just frames and a couple of walls. The outer wall is sturdy and every new watchtower is manned.

Tara is standing on top of the new gate. Bright red Santa hat an easy target for any sniper in the woods. She’s sitting on a railing, arms wrapped around her torso and breath ghosting in front of her. She turns her head when she spots him from the corner of her eye.

Daryl walks on.

‘Dare!’

He doesn’t turn around. The sun is hidden behind white winter clouds, just a glowing shadow in the sky that tells him it’s midday. The farm at the west side has been rebuild but the glass of all the greenhouses is broken and gone. An empty frame encompassing a patch of wasteland. No more tomatoes, cucumbers, mushrooms or spinach. Not for a while, at least.

On one of the patches where wheat used to grow, Rosita is now training the guards. Hand to hand combat with her slowly walking from group to group to give tips and correct posture. Some guy spots him first and stops mid routine to nudge his friend. When the whispers start, Rosita looks over, too.

‘Eh, gilipollas!’ she calls out.

‘Pendeja!’

‘Who taught you that?’

Daryl smiles and shakes his head while walking on. The rest of his lap around Alexandria is uneventful. There’s a crew working on one of the houses, someone brings a crate with supplies to one of the occupied ones. A woman pushes a cartwheel filled with logs around to restock all the fire pits near the watchtowers. Every gaze lingers on the teenager but Daryl’s used to that.

It’s not long before he sees the workers and farmers putting down their equipment to settle around the fires and eat their lunch rations. He sits on one of the picnic tables and smokes his cigarette. After a couple of minutes, Carl walks down the street. Hands deep in the pockets of his jeans, nose buried in the navy scarf Daryl brought home from the Kingdom. He’d asked the lady who had made his one to make another because it was so warm and he figured Carl could use one, too. It had cost him a rabbit pelt.

He’s still wearing the sheriff’s hat despite the cold, just like how Daryl is still wearing the baseball cap backwards. Habits. Taiwo keeps telling him that habits and sentiment won’t keep his ears from freezing off but he’s too stubborn. He guesses Carl is, too.

They’re brothers, after all.

Carl jogs up the path to his house and disappears inside. Just when Daryl’s cigarette is all but ashes, a guy he doesn’t recognize comes walking down the street with Judith skipping next to him. Rain boots, gloves, a scarf so long that it drags over the floor at times. Blond curls peeking out from under her warm hat. The man walks her up to the path and knocks, waits for Rick to answer before he walks off again. The door stays open a heartbeat longer and Daryl smirks when he watches how Judith jumps around on the mat to clean her boots.

‘Can’t she wipe her feet like a normal person?’ Daryl asks.

‘Someone told her about kangaroos,’ Michonne answers. She doesn’t seem surprised that the teenager heard her approaching, or that he recognized her footsteps in the grass. ‘She wants to be one when she grows up.’

‘Got the ears for it.’

‘Oh, you got jokes now?’ She comes closer and sits down next to him at the table. She passes a bowl with hot soup over. ‘Eat.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’ He takes his leather gloves off so he can warm his hands directly on the bowl. Steam rises and kisses his cheeks. There’s a spoon but he lifts the bowl to his lips to take a sip instead. There aren’t a lot of vegetables in there anyway. Merle would have called it colored water. ‘Thank you. You don’t have to stay out here.’

‘You don’t want to talk?’

‘No. I talked to Rick. I’m not sure it helped. I’m sick of it.’

‘Then eat your food and listen. Rick made a mistake. _We_ made a mistake. We know that now.’

Daryl sips his soup and then frowns. ‘Ain’t much of a speech for me to listen to.’

Michonne looks at him. ‘What else do you want me to say?’

‘You’re baiting me into a conversation I don’t want to have,’ Daryl notes while his gaze follows Tara, who walks her round on the wall. ‘Glenn would have been proud of you for trying, but I’m not twelve anymore, Mich. Cut it out.’

She eats her soup. When they’ve both finished, she traces the rim of her bowl with her finger. Round and round until she looks up. ‘Carl was very upset.’

‘So was I.’

‘Maybe you could talk to him, I know you didn’t mean-‘

‘Thanks for the soup,’ he says as he puts the bowl down and continuous his track along the wall. When he reaches the watchtower again, he climbs up the stairs and sits next to Tara. The woods are quiet. Leaves all gone, branches bare. There’s a track just behind the tree line made by people walking to the traps every day. He’s glad people are still using those.

Tara scoots closer and takes his arm. She hugs it tightly.

Daryl huffs out a breath of laughter and puts his head on top of Santa hat.

‘I never asked,’ Tara says softly, ‘but where the hell are my twizzlers, you punk? You owe me a pack.’

‘Yeah, you kissed those goodbye with all this bullshit going on here.’

‘Fair enough.’

 

 

Two hours later, Daryl’s boots cause the wood of Rick’s porch to creak. He thinks about knocking for just a second but then just lets himself in. Because he hears Judith’s voice somewhere inside the house, he puts his crossbow on the shelf above the coatrack so it’s out of her reach. The girl knows that all weapons are off-limits to her, from Michonne’s katana to every gun and knife, but sometimes the temptation is too big when it comes to the crossbow.

It surprises him that Carl is sitting on the couch with a book.

‘Hey.’ His brother quickly puts it aside and sits up straight. The sheriff’s hat is on the couch beside him, his hair is a mess of half-formed curls. His one eye is focused on Daryl’s shoulder.

‘Is your dad home?’

‘Yeah, he’s upstairs – in the office.’

‘Thanks.’ Daryl heads towards the stairs.

‘Dare!’

He turns. ‘Yeah?’

Carl opens and closes his mouth, hands clasping the book. ‘Nothing. Just – I’m sorry.’

He nods but doesn’t answer. Judith is in her room. The little baby cot is gone and someone made her a tiny bed instead. She’s on the floor with Michonne. Plastic animals are littered all around her. She’s holding a horse and is trying to make one of her dolls ride it by smashing them together gleefully. Michonne is laughing, her smile hidden behind her hand and the skin around her eyes wrinkling.

Daryl heads to the end of the hallway, where the new office is. Rick is sitting behind the desk, bowed over a letter he’s working on. He’s rereading his own words with a frown. The paper is lifted off the wood while he squints at the ink. Three days ago, Daryl would have teased him about it.

Instead, the teenager knocks and steps into the office when Rick looks up. He closes the door behind him and heads towards the windowsill next to the desk. He sits down, back against the cold glass.

Rick puts the letter down and turns to him. ‘I shouldn’t have made this call on my own, I’m sorry. I wanted to move too quickly, to just try to get over it – get through it. I’m sorry.’ His fingers scratch at the paper. ‘I’ll ask Ezekiel to take him back, keep locked up in one of the outer locations. I think that’s what’s best,’ he glances up to meet Daryl’s eye, ‘for us.’

‘You ‘nd me?’

Rick nods.

‘I think so too. Won’t have to worry about you lettin’ him out behind my back as soon I leave.’

‘Yeah.’

Daryl works his jaw. ‘Ain’t going to fix everything though.’

‘I’m sorry I’ve hurt you,’ Rick says softly.

‘Yeah.’ He draws his knees up and lets his heels rest on the windowsill. He plucks at a loose threat on his jeans. After a couple of seconds, he looks up. ‘I just don’t understand, and I know you’re sorry and are going to make everything right,’ he says with a gesture at the letter, ‘but… never mind, this is fucking stupid.’

 ‘Say it.’

Daryl works his jaw. ‘You’re one of the few people who knows what he did to me. At the Sanctuary, here with the fake graves – everything. I told you _everything_ , and you still let him out. You wouldn’t have done that if it had been Carl who’d been taken. You would have killed Negan that night in the forest if it had been Carl. And yeah, if it’s me or Carl, fucking pick me to get Lucille, but this wasn’t me or him. This was just me. And you picked Negan, man.’

Rick opens and closes his fist and then brings his hand up to shield his eyes.

‘You always introduce me as your kid, but you didn’t send Carl into war as often as you did me. Every battle, every ambush – I was there. Maggie begged me not to, Merle took my place as often as he could, but you just-‘  he waves his hand vaguely, ‘send me out there. I don’t blame you. I’m good in a fight and I wanted to do it. A parent wouldn’t have let me though.’

‘We needed you out there.’

‘I know. That’s kinda fucked up in and of itself, Rick.’ Daryl says with a small smile. ‘I know you care a lot about me but-‘

‘I _love_ you,‘ Rick cuts in.

‘Yeah – same. I always liked it when you said I were yours, too, ya know?’ the teenager shrugs, ‘maybe I was lookin’ at you for something we were never gonna be. That’s on me. I know you love me, but I kept hoping you’d step in. That you wouldn’t just stop me from dealing the final blow, but that you’d do it instead, ya know? Maybe it ain’t right, maybe it ain’t even fair because I don’t think Glenn would have done it either – but we’re not like them. We’re…’ he shakes his head. He looks out of the window. ‘We ain’t always good people.’

Rick just looks at him, silent and with eyes that are brimming with tears.

‘I wanted you to kill Negan for torturing your kid,’ Daryl says, his own voice shaky. ‘Feels like you’re stabbing me in the back – letting him out like it were nothing. Like it… Like it were my own fault or something, or that I really did deserve everything he did to me, or-‘

‘Dare, no…’

‘No more kid’s stuff,’ Daryl murmurs, ‘but I was still looking at people, tryin’ to find a glimpse of Shane or Glenn, or Will even. Merle told me to stop lookin’ at him back at the Kingdom.’

Rick wipes a tear away that rolls down his cheek. ‘He came to the Kingdom right after the war to kill Negan.’

Daryl nods. ‘I know.’

‘It took five guys to stop him.’

‘Tough as nails, my brother,’ Daryl says as he slides off the windowsill and lands on his feet. ‘I’ll stop lookin’ for it your way. Gotta learn to stop looking all together. I’m my own man now.’

‘You are,’ Rick agrees. He gets up, too. ‘I know I haven’t been what or who you needed, and I’m sorry I failed you. You’ve always been different. Stronger. It made me forget that you were just kid. By the time I remembered, you weren’t one anymore but I still tried to…’ he shakes his head. ‘I kept things from you, tried to… It wasn’t good enough.’

‘No. It wasn’t, but we were getting better. It felt like you trusted me again, sending me out to fix stuff for you, get deals done, deliver messages ‘nd shit. That you told me about the Saviors giving Dwight trouble,’ he shrugs. ‘It made me happy – like you were finally really talking to me instead of just ordering me around.’

Rick nods. ‘We were getting better.’

Daryl nods. ‘Aaron ‘nd me – before the war? Hmm, he told me he’d been watching us out on the road – that I were the reason why he took us in. He didn’t see no killer, no thief in the night. Saw that I weren’t your attack dog. Know what he thought I was?’

‘What?’ Rick asks softly.

‘Glenn’s right-hand boy,’ Daryl says with a hint of pride.

‘You were, right from the start.’

‘Now I’m Maggie’s right-hand man.’

Rick works his jaw and then nods. ‘She’s lucky to have you.’

‘I got my uses,’ Daryl laughs as he scratches the back of his neck while blushing. ‘But I’m the lucky one.’ He adjusts his baseball cap. ‘I’m going home now. Can you find someone else to deliver that letter to Ezekiel?’

‘Of course.’

‘Good. I’ll be at the Kingdom in about a week.’

Rick nods. ‘He’ll be there by that time. I promise.’

Daryl holds out his hand. ‘Okay.’

Rick ignores the hand and draws the teenager close by hooking a hand behind his neck. He hugs him tightly. ‘I love you.’

‘Same,’ Daryl murmurs into his shoulder, ‘but I fucking hate you, too.’

Rick huffs out a breath of laughter. ‘I know.’ He holds on for a little while longer before releasing the other man. ‘They would have been proud of you. I am proud.’

 

 

Carl is waiting for him at the gates. He looks nervous.

Daryl sighs. ‘Got a letter for Enid?’

‘Yeah, but you don’t have to deliver it. It’s fine. I get it.’

‘Obviously you don’t.’ Daryl sighs and holds out his hand. ‘Just give me the goddamn letter.’

Carl takes it out of his back pocket and hands it over, ‘listen, can we-‘

‘Catch you later.’ Daryl puts the letter in the special satchel for them on his saddle and then hoists himself onto Khamsin’s back. Feet in the stirrups, hand twisting in his reins. She doesn’t need the clacking of his tongue to get going.

 

 

The ground is icy cold beneath him. The sun hasn’t come out from behind the white clouds all day and it’s going down now. Shadows are long despite it being early in the evening. There’s a change in the air though, it won’t be long before its spring. The branches of the trees are still bare, but in some places new buds are popping up. The snow is melting. Rivers run wild again after being frozen over.

Daryl talks until his jaw hurts. About all the communities and their old friends, about Tara and her twizzlers, his artwork – how he still can’t capture that spark of joy in any eye, about Hershel who makes it easy to practice that at least. Everything he’s been feeling the past week, everything he has tried to work through, how he’s trying to shake it all off. That Negan will be locked up again. That Rick made a mistake, a bad call, but that he’ll try not to let it fester inside of himself.

It’s over.

Or rather, when he checks and finds Negan back in one of Ezekiel’s cells, it’ll be over.

He talks about Khamsin and the sanctuary, how Beth is saving lives down there. About Maggie. Merle. Aaron. He talks about the new community, too. Taiwo.

‘You’d have liked him,’ Daryl says with a shy grin. ‘He’s.. great. Like – nice and stuff.’ He picks up a rock and lets it bounce off the gravestone, ‘you’re not even here and I’m still embarrassed, stop laughing!’ He jumps to his feet, ‘got a smoking hot boyfriend who is fucking awesome. There.’ He reaches down to brush some snow off Glenn’s name. ‘Wish you’d met him, man.’

Barrington house is warm. There’s fog on the windows and the fires are roaring. Some guy is teaching a woman how to dance and everyone in the living room is laughing at them but nobody else steps up as volunteer either. There’s laugher and stories. He passes them all until he reaches Maggie.

Hershel is curled up in her lap. He drools on her thigh.

Daryl leans down to kiss his chubby cheek before letting Maggie kiss his. ‘Hey. I’m back – everything is fine.’ He sits down on her armrest and watches the dancing lesson. On the other side of the room, Paul is sitting on the couch, completely focused on the book he’s reading. ‘Did Paul tell you what happened?’

‘Yes.’ She doesn’t ask but her hand finds his wrist and squeezes tightly.

‘I talked to Rick. Negan’s being transferred back to the Kingdom, where he’ll spend the next couple of years in prison. He ain’t getting out.’

Maggie nods. ‘Good.’

‘Yes.’

Alex enters from the kitchen with two cups of tea in his hand. He walks over to the couch, puts them down on the floor and then lowers himself between Paul’s spread legs. His back against the scout’s chest. Paul doesn’t stop reading, but he loops his arm around his boyfriend’s chest and hugs him close, nuzzling the short hair.

Daryl smiles. He gets up. ‘Merle’s on watch?’

Ten minutes later, he’s passing a cigarette back and forth between them. They talk under their breath about how the hunting season is coming up, who in their community has an affinity with bows, how Merle had once stepped on an old trap when he was young and roaming the woods for something to do. Like true Dixon’s, they avoid the topic for a long time, until they’ve run out of other things to say.

‘Rick change his mind?’ Merle grunts.

‘Yeah.’

‘That fucking idiot. Jesus is lucky he’s such a slippery eel.’

Daryl frowns before laughing. He takes a drag from the cigarette. ‘Did you try to shoot the messenger?’

‘Strangle him.’

‘Good luck with that,’ Daryl laughs. ‘Lots of people tried but he’s still here.’

Merle studies him for some time. ‘You stayin’ long?’ he asks suddenly.

‘Not really.’

‘Going back to Washington?’

Daryl nods. ‘I think so, yeah.’

‘Ain’t your home, man.’

‘Of course it ain’t, but it’s where I want to be right now, so I’ll stay three days and then head back.’

Merle waits a beat. He raises an eyebrow.

‘I’m not going to ask your permission, man.’

Merle grins. ‘Good, but your hip better be glued to mine those three days, because I miss you like crazy when you’re gone. Don’t tell nobody though.’

‘I know,’ Daryl laughs as he scoots closer to his brother. ‘You got a reputation to keep. It took five guys to stop you at the kingdom, man? What the fuck did you take? Some X or what?’

 

 

Five days later, he spots the little group before they see him. They’re hanging out at a small playground. Of course Felix is literally hanging upside down from one of the monkey-bars. His shirt keeps falling down to cover his reddening face. Every time it happens, Amaka tickles his ribs with a strand of grass to try and make him fall.

Hakeem is lounging on the slide, eyes closed but hand on his knife while he enjoys the first rays of spring-sunshine. Vera is watching the north side and Taiwo is standing on one of the swings. The wind pushes him back and forth. The metal creaks. He’s watching the road to the Kingdom intently.

‘Dead.’

Hakeem’s eyes snap open and Felix falls to the ground. Vera almost lets one of her knives fly but she manages to hold onto it at the last second. Amaka ducked behind one of the structure to get out of sight.

Taiwo is the only one who doesn’t move. He swings back and forth lazily, his gaze slowly drifting to his boyfriend, who is sitting in the windowsill of one of the houses nearby, crossbow aimed at his head.

‘Dead, dead, dead, all dead,’ Daryl says before throwing the unloaded weapon back over his shoulder. He drops down from the window. ‘Why’re you waiting outside like sittin’ ducks?’

‘It’s our town,’ Taiwo smirks. ‘You took the south route to try and creep up on us.’

‘You don’t know that. There weren’t any guards.’

‘It’s our town,’ his boyfriend repeats while he jumps down from the swing. ‘They recognized you so they let you pass. Just because you didn’t see them, doesn’t mean they weren’t there.’

‘ _Sure_.’

‘You’ll never know whether I’m bullshitting you.’

‘Don’t really care,’ Daryl laughs. He walks over and hugs his friend tightly. Taiwo’s cold nose against his neck, his hot breath ghosting over his skin. Daryl smiles and tugs him even closer. ‘Hey.’

‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah. Are you-’

‘He’s fine, he’s fine! Let’s go!’ Felix jumps up to a low wall and points at the wrong horizon. ‘Lead the way! _No_ ,’ he cries out when he glances at his best friend, ‘don’t start making out _now_! I’ve got a king to meet, man! A _king_.’

‘You’re going to be so fucking disappointed when it turns out it’s just a regular-ass guy,’ Vera says as she walks over. ‘It’s going to be hilarious. I can’t wait.’

‘Is that why you dressed up?’Amaka asks. ‘You cleaned your boots.’

‘I cleaned my _everything_ ,’ Felix says with a leer. He gets hit in the side of his head by a pebble.

Hakeem sniggers.

‘Seriously though,’ Felix rubs at his head and glares at the other boy before turning back to Taiwo, ‘stop eating his face. Get a room. He has a room! He has a room at the kingdom, let’s go there. We can just _go there_!’

Taiwo flicks him off but ends the kiss reluctantly. Nose rubbing against Daryl’s. ‘He’s not going to stop before we get going.’

‘Well,’ Daryl grabs him by the jacket and takes a couple of steps backwards, dragging him along, ‘I do got a room there, so…’

‘Oh?’ Taiwo grins and puts his hands on his hips, ‘do we have to share with those idiots?’

‘Nah, Kingdom’s got a trash site, they can sleep there fine.’

‘Hey!’

Hakeem stomps his boot on the ground.

‘You fucking tell them, Keem,’ Felix nods. ‘Vera is dragging us all down – now everyone thinks we’re _all_ trash. Thanks, you stupid- ow! Ow! Stop, stop! Hakeem said it!’

‘I didn’t see him sign shit,’ Vera says as she puts Felix in a headlock and rubs her knuckles over his blond hair.

‘We’re just on that kind of level,’ Felix squeaks. ‘I know him! He thought it!’

‘Didn’t say it so doesn’t count,’ Amaka sing-songs as she walks past them. ‘Tai, leave Daryl’s tongue alone for two seconds so he can tell us which way to go.’

Daryl hooks his hand around the back of Taiwo’s head so he can’t break the kiss off. With his free hand, he points down the street.

Amaka shrugs. ‘That works!’

 

 


	44. the King's table

 

* * *

 

 

 

The closer they get to The Kingdom’s main gate, the quieter Felix becomes. The cheerful banter between him and Vera dies out as soon as hoof prints appear in the soft earth besides the road. A nervous hand curls around his weapon when they pass walker traps and marked walls. A lost banner tied to a branch as a way marker in the forest. Hakeem signs something and instead of answering vocally, Felix signs back.

Daryl glances at Taiwo, who doesn’t seem bothered. The dao is in his hand after he’d heard the first walkers in the traps, but it’s lowered. Sometimes he swishes it upwards, twirling it around his hand like Daryl sometimes does with his knife though he admits that it looks way cooler with the curved sword. There’s no tension in his shoulders, no stiffness in his posture as he walks through the dense forest.

Amaka is on Daryl’s left. Feet light like a dancer and her own long knife still in its sheath. She’s talking to her brother, voice barely loud enough to reach him but it doesn’t seem to matter. English, but words replaced with ones only they know. Some from the language their mother used to sing their lullabies in, others from the one they’d made up for fun when they were little.

Vera is watching their backs. The last of the group but the glances over her own shoulder are more nervous than casually checking out a sound made in the woods. Like Felix, she stumbles over hidden roots and needs help climbing up dried-up riverbeds.

Any other time, Daryl would have made fun of them. City slickers. He can’t bring himself to say anything about it now though. He just helps Felix up and then falls back to walk next to Vera. He answers the nervous and embarrassed smile with a fond one. They hadn’t grow up sneaking through the forest, didn’t live out here after it all went down. They’re used to concrete and metal, jump off buildings to zip line to another without missing a beat, but they almost have a heart attack when a bird takes flight from the frozen branches above them.

There’s fear in their eyes, but they came out here. He invited them and they showed up at the playground, just the five of them. Daryl had expected an escort, guards or at least people with sharp knives who just _happened_ to have business at the Kingdom too. Instead, it’s just them. Armed to the teeth, he has no doubt, but following him into foreign territory anyway.

‘Fox, don’t worry about it,’ Daryl murmurs when Vera glances over her shoulder again.

‘Sorry,’ she whispers, sounding embarrassed for the first time he has met her.

‘Should apologize if you didn’t hear it,’ Daryl says. ‘It’s a good thing you’re payin’ attention. This part of the woods is part of the Kingdom, but they don’t patrol here often. I think they’re using “clearing the walker traps” as a punishment for people who fall asleep on guard duties. Like I said,’ he grins when Amaka looks at him with a deep frown, ‘don’t happen often. Kingdom’s got good soldiers. Some of the best. Biggest force for sure.’

‘Great,’ Felix says softly, ‘but you’re _sure_ they’re your friends, right?’

‘Getting scared?’ Taiwo asks.

‘Honestly pissing my pants, man,’ Felix laughs, ‘I’m not even going to try and hide it.’

Hakeem signs something. He looks annoyed.

‘It was your idea,’ Vera translates when Daryl looks at her.

‘And it’s a _good_ idea. If it’s up to Mason and them, nobody is ever leaving the city. I’m not spending the rest of my life staring at your ugly faces – ouch! Okay, yours is not so bad,’ Felix laughs while rubbing his arm where Hakeem had punched him. ‘It’s a good idea,’ he repeats, ‘but I’m still pissing my pants. Daryl didn’t freak me out that much – we can take him, easy, but so many strangers?’

‘You think you can take Daryl easy?’ Amaka asks with skeptical laughter tainting the words.

Felix glances at the Dixon. ‘Well... If you help!’

‘I’ll restrain him,’ Taiwo offers with a wriggle of his eyebrows as he spins on his heels, walking backwards and leering at his boyfriend.

‘Good talk, glad it’s over,’ Vera announces as she picks up a twig and throws it at Taiwo. ‘Stop eye-fucking him, you freak. He needs to concentrate on getting us there safely.’

‘He could do that with his eyes closed.’

‘Stop flirting!’ Vera hisses when the soft growling of walkers reaches them.

‘Walker trap on your side, Amaka,’ Daryl says. The tips of his ears are burning. He’s getting used to the easy banter but still flushes when Taiwo bites on his lower lip and his gaze travels over the Dixon’s whole body before turning back around with a smirk. Shivers run up his spine. He grins.

They ignore the walkers in the traps. Soldiers of the Kingdom will come by eventually with their spears to finish the job. There’s no point in risking themselves to reach them with their knives, or even Taiwo’s sword. Daryl could shoot them with the bow of course, but it’d take longer than they’d like.

It’s cold, and they want to get to the Kingdom before noon.

They cross a track that’s used by riders to exercise and train the horses to be outside of the walls where they can hear and smell the dead. Daryl has raced Khamsin on the track many times. There’s always someone claiming their horse is faster, and sometimes they’re even willing to bet their cigarettes on it. He loves relieving them of those.

Two minutes later, something causes him to turn around. A prickling sensation on the back of his neck, a noise he can’t quite place as footstep or a walker’s shuffle. One hand comes up to grab the band of his bow tightly while he turns.

There’s a walker standing near the tracks. Clothes dirty and skin rotting. Almost all of their hair has fallen out. He can’t even tell whether it used to be a man or woman. It’s not growling, not making any kind of noise. It’s not moving either. Frozen on the spot.

Daryl frowns. He cocks his head to the side and takes a step towards it.

‘Which way, Daryl? Just continue on?’

Daryl glances back at Amaka, who has run up the small ramp leading to the big road. She looks left and right curiously.

‘Continue on,’ Daryl answers and he looks back to see whether their voices attracted the walker.

It’s gone.

‘What the hell,’ Daryl breathes. He grabs his bow and readies it, walking back towards the tracks slowly. One foot in front of the other. Up on the tracks, overlooking the forest. The walkers still in the trap, nothing else. His breath ghosts in front of him. He lowers the bow, squints and-

‘ _Daryl_!’

Taiwo’s voice causes him to spin around, throw the bow onto his back and start running. Down the small hill, through the forest and up to the road. His group of friends has their hands raised and is slowly backing up. Three riders from the Kingdom have their spears pointed at their heads, faces hidden by scarfs and protective masks.

Daryl whistles sharply. Before his boots hit the concrete, the guards swing their spears upwards and away from his friends. Their postures relax.

One of them tugs his scarf down. ‘You should stick closer to your friends, Daryl.’ He glances at the five teenagers, curiosity causing his eyes to shine brightly. ‘From Washington, right? The King is expecting you all. Be sure not to keep him waiting. Good day.’

‘Terry,’ Daryl says as the first two guards guide their horses down from the road and into the woods to head towards the track. He hesitates for a second. ‘Be careful out there.’

‘For the King,’ Terry nods, pushing his heels in his horse’s flank to catch up with his friends.

Daryl watches them go before turning back to Taiwo. ‘Sorry – I thought I saw something a little way back, I was just checking it out.’

‘We almost died, thanks,’ Vera mutters. ‘Kebab. _Skewered_.’

‘Did you hear them?’ Felix gushes. ‘Who dares to trespass the sovereign land of the King? Did you hear that? Awesome. That’s fucking awesome. What do _you_ say when you find people, Amaka?’

‘Are they still breathing?’ Amaka deadpans.

Felix gapes at her for a moment. ‘Not cool.’

She shrugs. ‘Do you know what Daryl said? Take me to your leader.’

Hakeem snorts and Taiwo groans.

‘It was my _one_ chance to ever say it!’ Daryl laughs, ‘come on! We’ve been over this! It was cool. Admit it, I was fucking cool and that’s why you took me back to the station. Come on, Amaka, admit it.’

‘You were weird,’ Amaka says. ‘You reminded me of Taiwo.’

‘Hey!’

‘Deal with it,’ the girl tells her twin. ‘Can we get off this road now? And you’re walking in front, Daryl. I’m not getting skewered twice today.’

It doesn’t take them long to reach the wall after that. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees how tension starts to creep into Taiwo’s posture now. The dao is back in its sheath and he seems to miss holding it. Fingers twitch restlessly as his eyes scan the wall for any movement.

Daryl walks closer to him. He takes his hand in his. ‘First guards are on that corner over there,’ he gestures with his free hand and then squeezes Taiwo’s.

Taiwo squeezes back.

 

 

The people of the Kingdom are used to visitors now, though they usually don’t stare this much. It’s midday so the Kingdom is busy with activity. Felix’s mouth is slightly open and even Vera looks impressed by all the people. There are guards running their training laps, children running around to deliver messages or just chase each other around. People are working in the gardens to get them ready for spring. Archers line up for their next shot near the food hall. Horses are guided over to the blacksmith to have new shoes fitted and old ones checked.

‘Good morning, Daryl!’

‘Dixon, all good?’

‘Hey, Daryl!’

The Dixon waves at the people greeting him and shakes the hand of one of the guards passing by. He watches fondly how Felix seems to vibrate on the spot, so eager to go explore while trying to restrain himself. Vera doesn’t seem as sure. She’s holding Hakeem’s hand, fingers white because of the pressure. Amaka and Taiwo automatically gravitate towards each other. Their shoulders brush while they look around, taking in the gardens and the higher buildings where the apartments are.

‘Y’all heard what Terry said,’ Daryl says as he heads towards the big building on the left. ‘Let’s not keep the King waiting.’

There’s no line outside of the auditorium and no guards near the doors, but it’s clear that the King was expecting them anyway. Jerry is standing next to the throne, big and imposing as ever. He’s leaning on his battle axe and Daryl can only imagine what the others are seeing. A great warrior, which is true, but he doesn’t doubt that they mistake the ever-present glint of joy in his eyes for something more menacing. There’s a young woman standing on the other side of the king. She’s holding a bo with sure hands, a recent graduate of Morgan then.

The King is sitting on the throne. Heavy combat boots and dark jeans, chains rattling when he stands. Shiva is no longer, but the king is slow to erase all traces of her vigil by his side. Pristine white shirt, graying dreadlocks but posture strong and voice clear when he speaks. It rings out when Daryl walks down the aisle, trusting his friends to follow his footsteps.

‘Daryl Dixon of Alexandria! It pleases me to see you back so soon. What news do you bring good king Ezekiel this time? What trade? Fresh fish from the east? Metalwork of Hilltop? Or are you perhaps gracing me with the company of the friends you speak so highly of?’

Daryl smiles shyly. ‘Indeed I am, your majesty. All of the above, though Monica took care of the trade, with your permission.’ He reaches the stage and jumps up easily, so used to the move by now.

Ezekiel puts a warm hand on his shoulder. The dark eyes are serious when they meet the blue ones. ‘We have much to discuss. Your brother is set to arrive any minute.’

‘Which one?’ Daryl asks even though he already knows.

Ezekiel steps closer and lowers his voice. ‘The letter you spoke of - it did not arrive, Daryl. I doubt Carl Grimes will come to deliver it in person. If they have changed their minds, perhaps I shall do the same when it comes to our trade deals. We have lived without Alexandria’s bullets for a long time. We shall do so again,’ Ezekiel narrows his eyes, ‘if needs be.’

‘Let’s see what he has to say first.’

Ezekiel’s hand comes up to cup Daryl’s cheek. ‘Of course,’ he says softly, the accent melting away for just a second. ‘Wise words.’ He leans back and waits.

Daryl frowns.

‘ _Dude_!’ Jerry whispers with a laugh. ‘Your friends!’

‘Yeah, what about… oh! Okay, sorry,’ he adjusts his baseball cap and steps aside, gesturing to the little group in front of the stage. ‘I’d like to introduce my friends; Hakeem and Vera, Felix, Amaka and her brother, Taiwo. They’re from Washington D.C.’

‘I welcome you all to the Kingdom, good travelers. A friend of Daryl, is a friend of the King. The hospitality of me and my people is yours. Dine with us tonight, it would please me to hear tales from your community.’ He looks at Daryl. ‘Have you found them appropriate lodging?’

‘Yeah, they’re staying with me in the art department. With your permission,’ he adds quickly.

Ezekiel seems to suppress a smile. ‘Very well,’ he says as he sits on his throne again. ‘Stay for as long as your hearts desire. Enjoy the Kingdom’s riches, my friends. Daryl,’ he gives the teenager a pointed look, ‘on your honor.’

Daryl puts his hand over his heart. ‘On my honor, your majesty.’ He then looks at Felix and narrows his eyes, ‘they won’t cause no trouble.’

‘We won’t!’ Felix promises quickly. ‘Err… We will not! We shall not, sir. King – I mean. Your majesty.’

‘Oh great,’ Vera sighs as she leans against one of the chairs in the auditorium and rolls her eyes. ‘Now he thinks we’re all idiots back home. Great job. Good first impression there, Felix. You moron.’

The corner of Ezekiel’s mouth quirks up. ‘First impressions are feeble things, we must trust our instincts, yes, but sometimes there’s more to someone than meets the eye. A mere child was brought before me years ago, hiding in the shadow of his family. I saw him but did not pay attention until he snuck between those chairs to face my Shiva head on. To marvel at her beauty. Fearless. He asked to know her name and told me she was beautiful while others merely cowered.’ He smiles and his fingers find the chains again. ‘Go now.’

Taiwo’s gaze flicks to Daryl. ‘He’s talking about you? You came here as a child.’

Jerry steps forward and grabs Daryl by the waist, drawing him to his chest. He hugs him and lifts him clean of the ground, the young man’s back against his chest and arms pinned. ‘He sure did. Always trying to sneak into Shiva’s room, always causing trouble!’

‘Didn’t cause no trouble!’ Daryl laughs as he tries to wriggle free. ‘Put me down! Jerry! Put me down, man!’

He does after a couple more moment.

Daryl stumbles away from him and jumps off the stage. Cheeks flushed and red ears poking out from his dark hair. ‘Come on, I’ll give y’all a tour but we’re starting in the kitchens because I’m starving.’

The kitchen crew gives them freshly baked bread filled with steaming hot meat. They eat it near one of the fires to warm up. Felix’s goes cold in his hands, he’s too busy gushing over the King to eat, cheeks rosy from the cold and excitement of the day. He only starts chewing when Hakeem starts asking questions about the community. Amaka translates them for Daryl.

He answers as best as he can but in the end it’s just easier to show them the grounds. From the kitchen to the stables where the famous horses are reared. Most are inside but Khamsin gallops through the fields without a care in the world. They stop to watch for a moment. Daryl talks to one of the stable hands while Amaka gives a mare a treat.

There’s not much going on at the training grounds at the moment. They pass a small group of soldiers. One of them spots the Dixon and immediately straightens his spine, rolls his shoulders back and tilts his chin higher. He even puffs out his chest.

‘Little brother of a friend who died just before the war,’ Daryl says when Taiwo looks puzzled. ‘He’s a good kid. He’s training to become part of the King’s personal guard.’ He smiles as he passes the group. ‘Lookin’ good Henry!’

‘Thanks Daryl!’

‘Focus!’ the instructor bites out and Henry shrinks back with a blush coloring his cheeks.

They pass the school and blacksmith. Daryl doesn’t mention the armory but leads them through the gardens instead. He tells them about the various farms the Kingdom has, nearby and further out. The other teenagers gape at the gigantic mural he made for Ezekiel a while ago. Shiva, roaring proudly on the side of the building.

‘No way,’ Amaka says as they explore the art department. ‘This is all yours?’

‘Oh no, no – just one room,’ Daryl says quickly.

‘But nobody is using the rest, Taiwo says as he peeks into another classroom.

‘They could.’

‘Everyone just chooses not to,’ Amaka laughs. ‘Okay. It’s yours. Deal with it. Oh, this is your room!’ she bounces into the room on the right. ‘Wow. This is amazing, Daryl!’

Daryl leans against the doorpost and watches how his friends explore his bedroom. Hakeem and Felix run over to his bed, falling onto it with a deep sigh. Sunshine has warmed his blankets and they close their eyes contently. Vera inspects the artwork on the shelves and Amaka heads over to the window to check the view out.

Taiwo sits down at one of the tables. There’s a sketchbook in front of him. His hand goes to the first pages but he hesitates and looks up. ‘Can I see? It’s one of yours, right?’

‘Yeah, sure.’ Daryl walks over and sits down on the tables next to him, legs folded beneath him. ‘They’re mostly just sketches – nothing special.’ He blushes when Amaka walks over and hangs over her twin’s shoulder to see too. It doesn’t take long for the rest to join them.

It turns into a game of who’s who.

‘Maggie!’ Felix shouts as soon as the next page is flipped.

‘No way that’s Maggie, you idiot,’ Taiwo laughs. ‘It’s Tara, right?’

Daryl nods.

‘How do you know?’

‘Because I listen when he talks, holy shit,’ Taiwo grins and flips the page, ‘Enid!’

‘Wrong,’ Daryl says. ‘It’s one of Beth’s friends. And that’s Julia – you don’t know them.’

‘ _I listen when he talks_ ,’ Felix mocks, ‘ _you idiot_.’

‘Fuck you,’ Taiwo laughs as he elbows his best friend in the stomach.

A knock on the door causes them all to look up.

Carl is standing in the doorway. Sheriff’s hat covering the dark hair and hiding most of his bandages. There’s stubble on his jaw now, his jacket is hanging open reveal his light blue flannel shirt. He’s still wearing the scarf Daryl got him. Silenced gun strapped to his thigh, edges of his jeans fraying. He doesn’t seem surprised to see the Washington crew there. ‘Hey, guys.’

Vera and Felix ducks their heads and pretend to study the picture. Taiwo glances at Daryl and then back at Carl but doesn’t answer. Hakeem gives a small wave.

‘Hello, Carl,’ Amaka says but it sounds cold.

‘Hey,’ Daryl says. ‘Ezekiel’s probably waiting for you. Knew you were comin’.’ He leans over to flip the page and turns back to his friends. ‘That’s Cyndie from Oceanside.’

‘I just saw him,’ Carl says, voice louder than usual but unsteady as well. ‘We came to an agreement.’

Daryl glares at him. ‘You want a gold star or something? Run home and tell Rick all about it. Maybe he’ll let you stay up five minutes longer tonight.’

Carl folds his arms. ‘You don’t want to know what we agreed on?’

‘Don’t care. Ezekiel wouldn’t agree with anything other than Negan being locked up. Rick wanted to trade Negan away but never send the letter asking Ezekiel to take him back. Means you threw a fit about it. Negan was Alexandria’s responsibility, right? Y’all kept him alive and now you wanna keep him all together. You want to finish what you started. Don’t think I don’t know you, _brother_ ,’ Daryl says. ‘And don’t think I won’t burn your house down if you let him out again. You know I will.’

Carl works his jaw. He glances at Felix who’s peeking right back at him from under his blond fringe. Carl frowns and steps closer to Daryl. ‘Can we talk? _Alone_?’

‘Why? Scared people will see what kind of asshole you are?’

‘Oh, you want to talk about Negan in front of them?’ Carl challenges.

‘You think I got something to hide?’ Daryl asks as he slides off his table and stalks over to his brother, getting into his face. ‘Or do you think I got something I should be ashamed of, huh? That’s it, right?’

‘No! It’s – they’re…’ Carl sets his jaw and glares at his boots.

‘Daryl,’ Taiwo says as he stands, ‘we’ll go put our things in the other room. It’s fine.’

‘You can sleep here,’ Daryl tells him.

‘Yeah, but I’m kicking the rest of them out,’ Taiwo says as he throws his backpack so it lands next to Daryl’s bed. Vera and Felix are already half-way out of the door, eager to get away from the brewing tension between the two brothers. Hakeem and Amaka follow suit but Taiwo lingers for a second. His hand touches Daryl’s arm.

Carl glares.

‘You don’t have to stay in the room,’ Daryl tells his boyfriend because he knows they hardly have anything to unpack. ‘Go explore. I’ll find you. Anyone gives you trouble, tell them you’re with me – I think most people already know though. Just don’t go outside of the walls.’

‘Sure,’ Taiwo says softly. He looks like he’s about to say something to Carl but the glare cuts him off. The door closes behind him.

‘Fix your face when lookin’ at him,’ Daryl snarls and he jabs Carl’s shoulder so hard that he has to take a step back to regain his balance.

‘Why are they even here?’

‘What’s it to you?’

‘Nothing! I was just hoping we could talk – I don’t like when we’re like this.’

‘Well, me neither but you fucking started it with your bullshit back home!’

‘I said I was sorry! Dad said he was sorry! What more do you want?’

‘I want to be mad at you for a while longer because you fucking deserve to squirm for a bit, you asshole!’

‘That’s mean,’ Carl says.

‘ _That_ is mean? You let the guy who _tortured_ me open my own front door!’

‘But _I_ said sorry!’

Daryl punches him again.

Carl laughs as he rubs his shoulder. ‘Well – I did, and I am. Come on, give me a smile, Dixy.’

Another punch.

‘Okay, I deserved that but-‘

Daryl grabs Carl’s arm and yanks him so hard that he stumbles past, towards the bed. One kick to his back sends him flying on top of it. He lands hard and doesn’t recover quickly enough. Daryl jumps onto his back and pins him down, his full weight on his brother’s back and one hand pressing his face into the blankets.

Carl screams when Daryl bats the sheriff’s hat aside and rubs his knuckles over his brother’s skull.

‘You really are a mini-pig, stop squealing. Good lord,’ Daryl grunts. ‘You just want someone to bust in here and save your little butt.’

Carl stops screaming and answers through clenched teeth, ‘it always worked when we were younger!’

‘Nobody gives a shit about teenagers, brother,’ Daryl laughs. ‘Does it hurt?’

‘Yeah!’

‘Good.’ Only when his own knuckles start to hurt does he stop. He rolls off of his brother and stares up at the ceiling. It’s late in the afternoon. Shadows start to grow longer but it’s still warm in his bed. ‘I wasn’t kidding about burning your house down if you let him out again.’ He closes his eyes, ‘I fucking hate you and Rick.’

‘I know,’ Carl says softly. ‘I didn’t know – I knew he’d done something to you, but… I didn’t know about the music and dogfood. Or that you were hurting yourself. I thought… He says he loves you, I thought that maybe if he could see you more – if he could be around you, that it would make him a better person. That maybe he’d try…. for you.’

‘He doesn’t love,’ Daryl whispers.

Carl rolls over to his side and looks at him. ‘I really am sorry, Dare. He won’t get out for a long, long time. I promise you. We made a mistake, but we will make it right. Alexandria has the best defenses and least amount of Saviors living in the community, we brought him to the safe zone for a reason. That hasn’t changed. It’s best to keep him at Alexandria. And if we keep him locked up, maybe... maybe things can be all right again between us. Not just you and me, but with dad too. Maybe you’ll see that you can trust us. He’s not eating, Dare. He has barely slept since you... visited.’

Daryl snorts at the choice of words. ‘Don’t try to guilt me into forgiving you. You did something messed up. I’m allowed to be angry. He’ll be fucking fine.’

‘Maybe.’ Carl plucks at the blanket. He bites on his lower lip. ‘I hate how I need you more than you need me.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘I miss you. I missed you before all of this, you’re always somewhere else… or at Washington. You’ve got all these other people to do shit with and I’m just… I don’t know.’

Daryl sighs. ‘I didn’t give you shit when you were sucking Enid’s face all the time. You’ve been hounding me for months that I should get myself someone. You made this whole speech about how I deserved to have something good in my life. I got it now. I found him, and he’s fucking awesome.’

‘Yeah, and I’m happy for you! Of course I am. I just miss you.’

‘You’re such a girl.’

Carl kicks him. He scratches at the bedding with his fingernails. ‘Are we going to be okay?’

‘You going to keep your word?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Then we’ll be okay.’

 

 

Dinner is served in one of the great halls. Long, weathered tables that have been brought inside for the winter months and roaring fires in all four corners of the building. Mulled wine is served sparingly to toast on the visitor’s health and good fortune, as well as the strengthening of the ties between their communities. People talk and laugh and tell stories. At the King’s table, Jerry tells about how he used to take Shiva on her afternoon walk through the community. Hakeem, Felix and Taiwo hang from his lips, soaking up every word. On the other side of the table, the girls are talking to the King himself. Amaka tells him more about Washington’s founding while Vera talks about everyday life at the various stations. The things they have and can trade, and the things they need.

Carl is talking to Henry, who looks star-struck.

‘It’s kinda sickening when you stare at him like that, you know?’

Daryl looks at Jayla, who snuck up on him while he’s waiting for his plate with rations. He’s late because he’d stopped by the guards to check whether Terry had returned from his patrol yet. He had. Safe and sound and with nothing to report.

‘Yeah?’

She nods. ‘You never looked at me like that.’

‘No. I didn’t,’ Daryl says with a small smile.

She laughs and swats his shoulder.

Taiwo glances his way for just a second, gaze snapping to the girl and back to him before he turns to Jerry again and asks a question. He looks happy. Shoulder relaxed, laughter lighting up his eyes. One of his arms is slung over Hakeem’s shoulders. Every couple of minutes, their whole side of the table erupts into laughter.

‘You look really happy, Daryl,’ Jayla says.

‘Thank you. I am.’

‘It suits you.’ Her fingertips trace his jaw for a second before she grabs hold of her crutches and moves back to her own table.

Daryl shakes his head fondly as he shuffles along the line to get his portion. He claims the seat next to Taiwo but talks to the girls and Ezekiel while he eats. When Carl joins the conversation, they talk about the fair they’re busy organizing. Washington is eager to participate though some people are still hesitant about meeting strangers on their lands.

Alexandria has a reputation even at Washington, but all parties understand the importance of its rebuilding and the celebration of its completion. Even though all parties have been formally invited, the Sanctuary will only send its workers. Everyone who fought in the war stays home to honor Oceanside’s wishes.

Daryl smiles when he feels Taiwo’s hand on his knee.

The choir starts to sing. Soft voices growing bolder as the songs go on and the singers gain confidence. Daryl likes listening to them. Some songs are starting to sound familiar. He always wonders whether they wrote them themselves or…

‘Do you know this song?’ Daryl asks abruptly as he turns to his boyfriend.

Taiwo smiles, ‘yeah. A lot of people covered it, before. I’ve got a couple of versions of it, but I’m not sure who sang the original. I can find out if you want though.’

‘Only if you have time. Thanks.’

‘Sure. Hey. Thanks for inviting us here,’ Taiwo shifts so he’s sitting sideways on the bench, one leg on each side, and faces his boyfriend, who copies him. ‘It’s been... so great. ’

‘Heard any crazy stories yet?’

‘A couple,’ Taiwo wrinkles his nose, ‘but we can fact-check in the morning. I’m pretty sure you’re not secretly dating Rosita.’

‘What gives you that idea? She’s my Spanish tutor,’ Daryl wriggles his eyebrows, ‘o-la-la!’

‘Does that mean you’re secretly boning Aaron too? He’s your math tutor, right?’

‘I’m kind of a slut.’

‘You can’t blush while saying you’re a slut, Dixon.’ Taiwo laughs. ’That’s not a thing.’

Daryl grins and looks away for a second. ‘Seriously though… I’m glad you all are here. It’s kind of fun to show you all the places I’ve been talking about, and that you’re meeting my friends and family. I know I was an asshole about it in the beginning, but I really do… I really like having all y’all here.’

‘It’s kind of weird that you’re a celebrity though,’ Taiwo says. ‘We only know you as that nerd who stumbled into our territory by accident.’

‘I tracked you down!’

‘You did not! We ran into each other while running from the dead!’

‘Totally tracked you down,’ Daryl swears. ‘I’m a bloodhound. I’m a… a _tracker_ , okay?’

‘Really, bloodhound is the only thing you could come up with?’

‘I need more tutors in my life. Ain’t that clever.’

Taiwo laughs. ‘I think I can teach you one or two things tonight. Squeeze a session in before we fall asleep. I’m charging though, I ain’t cheap.’

‘Charging what?’

‘I want Khamsin and a blowjob.’

‘Why is everyone after my horse?’ Daryl cries out. ‘Your sister wanted to trade your ass for her, by the way. She almost got rid of you! You’d have to come live here and-‘

‘Wouldn’t be so bad.’

Daryl blinks.

Taiwo gives him a small smile.

‘Well, you can’t have my horse, but that other thing?’ Daryl says as his cheeks heat up again, ‘Like – I don’t’ really know how, but… Guess that’s what the tutor session is for, huh?’

‘It is,’ Taiwo says with a leer. ‘I’ll show you how to do it. I can demonstrate how on-‘

Ezekiel clears his throat.

Daryl freezes.

Taiwo seems to literally bite his tongue and winces.

After a moment of ringing silence at the table, Felix jumps up and starts hitting Taiwo’s back with open hands. ‘I’m so fucking done with you, you goddamn horn-dog! We’re sitting at the _King’s table_ , with the actual, motherfucking _King_ , you fucking _peasant_! I hate you! We were doing so good and you have to ruin it by sexing up his right-hand man at the dinner table. I hate you. You’re trash. We’re feeding you to xidachane on the way back.’

Daryl snorts.

‘You’re not much better!’ Felix shouts while leaning over Taiwo’s shoulder to try and get to him. ‘He was bad before but you’ve made him ten times worse. A hundred times worse! Just _the_ worst!’ He turns to Carl. ‘Is this what you’ve had to deal with all those years? Does he just go around corrupting everyone so they look fucking stupid in front of a king somewhere?’

Carl glances at Daryl. ‘Normally it’s just him looking stupid, so I guess he’s dragging Taiwo down with him, yeah.’

‘Are you calling my brother stupid, Grimes?’ Amaka asks.

‘Totally.’

‘Fair enough.’

‘Family, huh?’ Taiwo laughs before he glances at Ezekiel, who just looks amused at the teenagers’ antics. ‘Sorry, sir. I’ll try not to sext up your right-hand ma-‘

‘Shut up, shut up, shut up!’ Felix shouts and he pummels his best friend. ‘Shut _up_!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep an eye out for the Christmas chapter.
> 
> It's tradition.


	45. together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all have/had a great Christmas, or happy holidays.
> 
> Much love.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Three months later, Daryl wakes up in his room in Alexandria. One eye opens sleepily to check the window. It’s still dark outside. With a satisfied grumble, he buries himself into his blankets, stretching out his sore muscles as he yawns. Exhaustion is gnawing at his very bones. The past month he has worked out in the fields of Hilltop Colony to help with the harvest. Long days out in the sun, bent over to yank produce out of the earth, or on his knees to plant new ones. He hadn’t minded the hard work but maybe he should have listened when Maggie told him it wasn’t a good idea to go hunting every free second he had available.

It has been worth it though. The cellar of Barrington House is stocked with dried meat and fresh produce. Rations will grow bigger until even Merle will stop complaining about them. The hides of animals he shot are drying in the sun, sheep coats shaved off and used for upholstery or clothing. He has learned how to use the drum carder and how to spin the wool correctly. He helped to deliver lambs with an elated smile on his face. He rode from Oceanside to the Kingdom, Sanctuary and Washington within days to deliver maps to Alexandria, to secure safe houses along the way and clear clusters of walkers to make the road as safe as possible.

Months of planning and talking and bargaining and organizing, but they’ve done it. All communities will arrive at Alexandria today. The harvest fair starts tomorrow.

He’s been at Alexandria for a week now to help prepare. He has helped the carpenters to finish the last structures, helped to get houses ready for visitors and spend most of the afternoon yesterday cleaning the weapon’s arsenal with Carl just to get away from all the buzz. Things are slowly getting better between them. Carl made the trip out to Hilltop and various safe houses just to catch up with him, spending two hours eating and drinking whatever he brought while listening to the gossip Daryl had acquired from the other colonies.

Hilltop arrived yesterday. Daryl had watched from one of the towers how Maggie and Merle rode through the gates on their horses, leading their people. Several carts had followed, guards on their horses, people walking on foot. One big caravan that stopped on the big main square where Rick and Michonne had been waiting to greet them. Maggie had hugged them both. Merle had ignored them.

It’s not the first time they’d seen each other again after the incident. Merle holds grudges like no other.

Daryl smiles sleepily at the memory and stretches again. He has no doubt that Merle will go back to being Rick’s right-hand man alongside Rosita and Tara, just like he’d been during the war. He just likes to make people squirm.

Footsteps on the stairs alert him for just a second before he throws the blanket over his head to try and hide. The door to his bedroom opens.

‘I’m still sleeping,’ he moans. ‘I’m not decent! I’m naked! Go away.’

Maggie walks over to the bed and pulls the blankets down to his chest. ‘Tough. Here. You take him.’ She gently lets Hershel fall onto the bed next to his big brother. ‘He kept me up all night. I think he knows something exciting is happening.’

Daryl gasps and looks at the baby. ‘Who told you?’

Hershel giggles and starts babbling while pushing his fingers of one hand into his mouth.

‘There’s something in the way, Kiss,’ Daryl laughs as he pulls at the little boy’s wrist to dislodge the fingers. ‘Don’t wipe them on -.’ He groans when Hershel grabs hold of his pillow and starts tugging at it. ‘Did Merle give him a sip of coffee again or something? Good lord.’

‘Who knows,’ Maggie smiles. She looks tired as she sits down on the edge of the bed. ‘Can you take him for a little while?’

‘Yeah. Just let me grab a shower real quick and then I’ll take him off your hands for the morning.’ He hops out of bed and feels his ears burn slightly when he grabs the clothes he’d laid last night. Usually he just grabs whatever looks clean enough off the floor.

If Maggie notices, she doesn’t let on. At least not until he comes out of the shower again, fully dressed. New jeans and a brand-new shirt, boots polished and vest cleaned. Even the baseball cap looks clean now. The necklaces shimmer in the artificial lights after having soaked in water and baking soda.

Daryl glances at the woman while clipping his gun belt on.

She smiles fondly. ‘You look great, Dare.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Are you nervous?’

‘No.’ He worries his bottom lip. ‘A little, I mean.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know. I just hope everything goes well, ya know? Oceanside’s gonna be here, but some of the saviors as well. Ezekiel ‘nd Rick. I just hope nothing blows up in our faces.’

‘If it does, we’ll deal with it. Everyone is excited, and everyone wants this to work so they’re all going to be on their best behaviors. Except for Merle, maybe,’ Maggie says with a grin. She reaches out and grabs Daryl’s hand. ‘It’s going to be fine. It’s going to be _fun_!’ She squeezes. ‘What time are you picking up Washington again?’

‘Noon, probably. They left real early.’

‘Excited for that at least?’

Daryl nods. ‘Yeah, of course.’

‘But,’ Maggie prompts with a knowing look.

Daryl throws his bow onto his back and clips an extra quiver with bolts to his belt. The engraved knife slides into its sheath. ‘It’s just going to be weird, y’all meeting him? Because I like him a lot, and I love all y’all of course, but… I don’t know. It’s just weird. Guess you didn’t have that problem with Glenn, huh?’

‘No, I didn’t,’ Maggie says, ‘and I never bothered to introduce any other boyfriend to my parents. They were usually gone after a month, so there was no point. I’m sure we’ll like him, Daryl. Stop worrying so much.’ She narrows her eyes, ‘or are you worried he won’t like us?’

Daryl laughs. ‘Yeah! He’s got to meet Merle! He’ll ditch my ass as soon as my brother opens his big mouth!’ He shakes his head. ‘Kiddin’. Bet Tai’s pissin’ his pants some though. Y’all intimidating as fuck.’

‘I’ll make sure Merle is on his best behavior,’ Maggie promises. ‘Paul and I will keep him in check.’

‘Thanks. What about you, little man? You’re going to be on your best behavior too? You best not puke on me today, or I’ll swear to God. Paid good money for this shirt,’ Daryl says as he picks Hershel up. ‘You gonna sleep here or…’

‘Yeah,’ Maggie crawls into his bed and closes her eyes.

‘Take off your goddamn boots!’

She smiles into his pillow. ‘Yes, dad.’

‘Bye mom,’ he grins and makes Hershel wave his hand too before heading down the hall and the staircase to get some breakfast. Daryl drinks his tea while he watches how Hershel makes a mess in his high chair. Chubby fingers smear most of the food on his chin and cheeks, but he manages to eat some at least. Ink black hair and dark eyes, at one year old already so much like his father, though Maggie’s glint of mischief is easy to spot as well.

‘Try and get some _in_ your mouth, Kiss,’ Daryl murmurs. He pops a piece of bread in his own. ‘Good job, buddy,’ he praises when the boy copies him. The babbling doesn’t ever stop. Another trait that he thinks belongs to Maggie. Sometimes he catches words. Ball is an all-time favorite but tractor isn’t far behind even though he still stumbles over those letters sometimes.

When he’s cleaning up, Rick arrives downstairs. Hair still a mess of curls, shirt wrinkled like he slept in it, eyes bloodshot. Daryl narrows his eyes. ‘Walker got to you tonight or something? Good lord, man. You look like shit.’

‘I couldn’t sleep.’

‘Sucks.’

‘Yeah.’

There’s still tension lingering between them, but it’s getting less with every visit. They talk more. Before, Daryl never mentioned any conflict he’d already solved, not really seeing the point in it, but he keeps Rick updated on friction between the communities now. Rick in turn talks more about what’s going on in his own head. Why he wants a group to be stationed at the watermill, or why there are suddenly people walking patrols outside of Alexandria, in the forest.

One of the saviors residing at Rick’s community went missing a couple of days ago. William, who’d been a soldier at one of the outposts Daryl had taken down during the war. According to Rosita, he’d always been causing trouble and nobody was particularly sad to hear he was gone now. Most just assumed he’d packed up his things and left. Everyone was free to go but most stayed because Alexandria has walls and guns protecting it. Apparently, William thought he could make it on his own.

That’s the story Rick allows to go around. Just a handful of people know that Michonne found all of William’s belongings back in his room. He’d left without his backpack, rations and personal items. He’d just upped and left when he’d gone to check the snares outside of the walls. Michonne, Tara and Rosita had searched the woods but found no trace of him.

That, and emptied snares, keeps Rick up at night now. Over the past couple of weeks, Daryl often found the man standing on top of the wall, staring out in the darkness with a crease in his brow. There’s something out there, he’d whisper to the youngest Dixon.

Knife. Bow. Holler.

‘Make sure to pick up your share of bullets today,’ Rick says as his nails scrape over the stubble on his cheek. ‘You didn’t, yesterday.’

‘I’ve got plenty.’

‘Pick them up, Daryl.’

Daryl rolls his eyes and lifts Hershel to his hip. ‘I thought bullets were for Alexandrians only?’

Hurt flashes over Rick’s face. He seems to shrink in his seat. The small factory where the Sanctuary had produced its bullets had been seized after the war. Production has only now started back up under Rosita’s supervision but the agreement about gun control still stands. Alexandria has an arsenal. The other communities have enough so their guards are armed but the gun are handed in as soon as their shifts end.

Rick never hands his python over to anyone. Him, Carl and Michonne, Rosita and Tara and everyone else he considers family wears a gun on their belt and has extra clips in their pockets. When that rule became active, Daryl had never even thought about having to hand over his gun or not getting any bullets to keep himself safe on the road.

 ‘Don’t,’ Rick says softly.

It seems like it’s not a good idea to joke about it now that everything is so fragile between them.

‘I’ll pick them up,’ Daryl says while he hitches Hershel higher onto his hip. ‘I didn’t mean-‘

‘It’s fine.’ The words are clipped. Rick pinches the bridge of his nose before he stands up and walks over to the teenager hesitating on the threshold. First, he presses a soft kiss to the back of Hershel’s head before hooking his hand around the back of Daryl’s, tugging him closer. Chapped lips against his forehead, the touch lingering for just a second.

‘Still sorry,’ Daryl says softly.

‘Me, too,’ Rick answers. The hand moves lower so he can squeeze the young man’s neck. ‘Let’s get moving. There’s a lot that needs to be done today.’ He heads back upstairs to get Judith up and ready for the day.

Daryl’s first stop is at the barn. He walks slowly and holds both of Hershel’s hands while the boy toddles between his legs, knees almost buckling after every step. The sight of the horses makes him squeal with joy and babble even louder.

‘That’s right, Kiss,’ Daryl nods. ‘Horsey! Oh, up?’ He asks when Hershel whines and he swings the boy up to his hip and then up further to his shoulders. ‘Look, that one’s got spots! That’s Paul’s horse. See the black one, at the back? There,’ he points. ‘That’s mom’s! Can you see Khamsin anywhere? Good job,’ he praises when Hershel babbles something he can’t make out. ‘She’s right there!’

A whistle brings his horse closer to the fence, though she dances just out of reach. Despite her own enthusiasm, she doesn’t seem to appreciate the barely controlled baby-limbs reaching for her twitching ears. She almost looks offended when Hershel laughs loudly at her.

‘Be nice to him,’ Daryl tells his horse.

‘She never listens to that. She’s the devil.’

Daryl scoffs. ‘You’re just mad because I love her more.’

‘Yes.’

Laughter bubbles up in his chest. He grins at Paul, who snuck up on him and is now leaning against the fence. ‘Tease.’

Paul laughs too and shakes his head. When Khamsin wanders off, he sits down on the fence and watches how Daryl puts Hershel in grass before he sits down next to him. ‘He’s getting so big now. He walked three steps the other day, did you hear?’

‘I think everyone still alive heard, Maggie was so proud,’ Daryl laughs. ‘She radioed me so she could tell me all about it.’ He lights a cigarette and watches his brother pull at the grass with clumsy fingers. He glances at the scout. ‘Alex didn’t come with ya? Didn’t see him yesterday.’

Paul looks at his boots first and then the watchtower. ‘No.’

Daryl smokes his cigarette and waits.

‘We’re just not… He’s better off with someone else,’ Paul says after a couple of moments of silence.

‘Ain’t that what you always say?’

‘Spare me the therapy session, Daryl.’

‘Why?’ Daryl lifts an eyebrow. ‘Yours always help me. A blind man could see he didn’t want nobody else, so I don’t understand why you’re fucking it up. You looked real happy - until it freaked you out, I guess. It’s kinda ironic how you never listen to your own fucking advice. I’d laugh at your pathetic ass if I weren’t feelin’ sorry for it.’

‘Thanks,’ Paul mutters sarcastically.

Daryl shrugs. ‘I feel sorrier for Alex anyway. Know how that fucking feels. Did you at least man up this time and told him what was up, or…’

Paul elbows him hard.

Daryl laughs. ‘You’re a mess.’

‘I know. Shut up.’ Paul puts his head on the Dixon’s shoulder. They watch how Hershel talks and tries to dig in the soft earth, hands and clothes getting dirty. Neither cares much about that. The sun has come up over the wall. They talk quietly while Alexandria wakes up around them. Farmers head out to the fields and guards relieve the ones from the night shift.

Paul only sits up when they spot Carl out in the distance. He slides off the fence and sits down in the grass with Hershel, pulling the little boy in his lap for a cuddle. The fear he had of kids has faded though he always looks mildly freaked-out when the boy starts crying.

‘Morning,’ Carl’s fingertips brush over Hershel’s dark hair in greeting before he jumps onto the fence next to his brother. ‘Khamsin! Come here. Hey, Khamsin!’ He whistles. ‘Yo, _horse_!’

Daryl snorts.

‘Dare, call her over please?’

‘But it’s so much more fun when you chase her around. Hey!’ He laughs when Carl glares at him, ‘you wanted to take her to Oceanside. Could have picked any other horse but you _had_ to steal mine.’

‘She’s fast!’

‘You just want to look cool.’

‘Well – yeah! Enid’s at Oceanside, man.’

‘Enid’s already seen you naked. There’s no coming back from that, you loser!’

Carl pouts.

Daryl mirrors it.

‘You suck.’

Daryl wriggles his eyebrows.

‘No!’ Carl jumps over the fence and starts trudging after Khamsin while folding his hands over his ears. ‘I don’t want to hear it!’

‘Didn’t say nothing,’ Daryl yells after him. He jumps off the fence too and scoops Hershel up, out of Paul’s lap. ‘Stop hogging my spot, Kiss. We gotta go. Say bye Jesus!’ He waves Hershel’s dirty, chubby hand at the man and gets started on his chores.

He stops by the armory to pick up his new clip before heading to the large dining hall. The large structure has been built on the place where their church used to be. It has roughly the same shape but hosts more people now. Large tables that have been sanded down to avoid people getting splinters, benches have been made to fit under them. At the very end, there’s a small stage that reminds Daryl of Ezekiel’s auditorium. There’s another big table, meant for the leaders of the various communities. Simple chairs found at a nearby store, others made by their carpenters.

Everything still smells of wood shavings and wet paint. There are people already putting plates down while others follow them to arrange the knives and forks. Vases with wild flowers are filled and distributed, water glasses put next to every plate.

He helps move the last tables to the right places and sweeps the floor of the stage. A lady shows Hershel his reflection in a spoon and lets him smell every flower until he sneezes. She plays with him in a corner while people run up to Daryl to ask last-minute questions about the feast. There’s panic in the kitchens because one batch of milk turned out to be sour and ruined a dish, hut Daryl assures them it’ll be fine anyway. They have enough to feed every community thrice tonight. Carl told him his mom used to get like this during Thanksgiving and Christmas, and had warned him to just stay out of the kitchen until they were called.

After answering ten more questions, he spots Michonne and sends them all her way instead. He quickly makes his way back to the house and gives Hershel a bath and clean diaper. The little boy sleeps on his chest while Daryl lounges on the couch.

The clock on the wall ticks loudly.

He smiles. Every passing second brings noon closer.

 

 

Nerves almost make him throw up when he sits by the side of the road at noon. He’s not sure why he can’t stop biting his fingernails, or why his legs don’t feel as sure as they did a couple of hours ago. It’s been two months since he has seen Taiwo but that happens all the time and nothing is ever different when they meet up again. He’s not worried about that.

He’s worried about everything else. About whether Maggie will like Taiwo, Merle will keep his big mouth shut, and the fact that Tara will tease them mercilessly through-out dinner. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’s worried about what people will say and think as well. A lot of people know why he’s always so eager to return to Washington D.C, always snatching up letters that need to be delivered there before one of the other messengers can get to them, but it’s all a bit more real now. Now that Taiwo will actually be here.

Daryl chews on his fingernails with a frown. He feels stupid for worrying about that but still can’t help himself. He hates it, too, because he doubts Carl ever worried about that when he met Enid. In moments like these, his mind is quick to flash back to Will, wagging his finger and telling him it best not be what it looks like when he’d sat in Carl’s lap.

‘Dead and gone,’ he tells himself out loud. Some days he feels guilty for feeling relieved about that. He misses his dad and wishes he were still alive, but sometimes he thinks he might not have been able to have all this if he’d been still around. Taiwo, and the rest of his family.

None of that matters. Things are the way they are.

The sound of voices, hooves and rolling carts has him jumping to his feet. He brushes dirt off his new jeans and readjusts his baseball cap. One hand curls around the band of his crossbow as he walks through the forest to get to the next road. Through the trees, he hears how Amaka and Taiwo are both called to the front of the group by Mason, who is studying the map Daryl had delivered weeks ago.

The map ends right there.

‘Did we take a wrong turn somewhere?’ Amaka asks as she reaches out to take the map from Mason.

‘No, I’m sure we didn’t,’ Mason says. ‘Here, you can have a look but-‘

‘Ya didn’t,’ Daryl says as he leans against a tree with his arms folded in front of his chest. ‘You’re in the right place.’

‘Daryl Dixon,’ Mason can’t seem to help but smile at the sudden appearance of the teenager. ‘It’s good to see you.’

‘You, too.’ He walks over to shake the leader’s hand before his gaze flicks over to the twins. They’re both wearing their full armor, tan leather snaking over their darker skin, weapons gleaming in the sunshine. Taiwo is grinning and leaning forward on his saddle. Someone has shaved the sides his head, leaving an intricate pattern behind as well as a Mohawk of natural curls.

‘Hello.’

Daryl blushes. ‘Hi.’

Everyone is looking at them.

Taiwo bites on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing at his boyfriend. ‘Good to see you.’

‘Stop, good lord,’ Daryl mutters. He hoists himself up on Amaka’s saddle to kiss her cheek in greeting. Then he grabs Taiwo’s reins to lead his horse further. ‘Alexandria isn’t far. Mason, take a left up ahead and you’ll be able to see the wall ‘nd gates already.’ He glances up at his boyfriend. ‘Did everything go okay? No trouble on the road?’

‘ _Somebody_ cleared it for us,’ Taiwo says with a raised eyebrow.

Daryl smiles at his boots.

‘Thank you.’

‘No problem’, Daryl turns and scans the crowd behind them. Most of the people he knows. A couple of them wave and he returns the greeting. Soldiers are riding alongside the group to protect them from any stray walkers. He thinks he spots Felix’s bright blond hair somewhere at the back but can’t be sure. ‘Did you bring the trash?’

‘Always, man. We tried to leave Felix behind but he started crying so we took him with us anyway.’

‘Hershel always does that when I leave, just gotta bite the bullet next time, man. They stop when you’re out of sight.’

‘Out of sight, out of mind.’

‘Kids,’ Daryl agrees.

‘Trash,’ Taiwo nods, ‘all of them.’

Daryl hits his leg. ‘Best not talk shit about my brother once we get there, or Maggie will hang you from the highest tree before I can even introduce your stupid ass to her.’

The other boy shifts in the saddle and jumps down. He stumbles because the horse hadn’t completely stopped walking but catches himself by grabbing hold of Daryl’s arm. They walk side by side. Taiwo clears his throat and kicks a rock. ‘So… you really wanna do this? ‘cause you don’t have to – I mean.’

‘ _You_ don’t wanna do this?’ Daryl asks with wide eyes.

‘No, I want to, but if you don’t want to, then… I don’t want to?’ Taiwo says with a confused frown, ‘but I want to.’

He’s nervous, Daryl realizes with a startling laugh. His boyfriend is chewing on his lip and keeps glancing down at his own boots before checking the tree line. Fingers twitch on the handle of his dao.

‘I want to,’ Daryl says, more confident now. He knocks their shoulders together. ‘I _really_ want to.’

 

 

Everything dissolves into chaos when Oceanside and the Kingdom arrive just minutes after Washington entered Alexandria. Aaron, who is manning the gate seems flustered but happy to see that everyone has arrived safely. Nobody had any trouble out on the roads after most of them had been cleared by the Grimes brothers.

Daryl makes sure that someone takes Mason to see Michonne and Rick and then leads Taiwo’s group towards the stables to turn their horses out. He watches their reaction out of the corner of his eye while they walk through the streets of Alexandria. They seem more at home here than out in the forest, used to concrete and brick, but the town still seems to impress them. Taiwo always keeps his emotions better hidden but Amaka stares around in unabashed wonder.

‘You rebuilt all of this?’ she asks.

‘Most of it, yeah. The church used to be in a different spot,’ Daryl says as he points at the half-finished structure on the outside of the town. ‘Rick wanted the dining hall to be the central point. Praying didn’t help much last time, but all of us being together did, so… you know.’ He shrugs.

‘Wow, did you paint that?’ she asks when she spots a sliver of the wall.

‘Yeah, ain’t nothing,’ Daryl says quickly. ‘Let’s get these horses settled.’

The guy in charge of the stables is frazzled by the sheer amount of people invading his buildings. Some of the horses need to wait around until he can find a spot for them, but most get turned out into the fields anyway. Daryl helps to get everyone a box assigned and leads Taiwo’s horse over to Khamsin’s spot, since his own horse doesn’t like to be inside anyway. Now that the weather is warm enough, she can stay outside fine.

He darts around to help less experience riders to untack their horses, throwing saddles up on the racks and filling up water buckets for the thirsty animals. When he finally sneaks into Khamsin’s box again, Taiwo looks up with a grin.

Two seconds later, the boy from Washington is pushed up against the wall while Daryl kisses him. He laughs when the Dixon grinds against him before letting his chin come to rest on his boyfriend’s shoulder.

‘Missed me?’ Taiwo asks. He sounds amused.

‘Yeah. I was kinds scared you wouldn’t come.’

‘Of course I would. Why wouldn’t I?’

Daryl shakes his head and hugs him tightly. ‘I don’t know. I’m glad you’re here.’

Taiwo laughs and tugs him closer. ‘Mixed signals, for a moment I thought I was getting screwed in a barn like in some corny novel.’

‘Later. I need a hug.’

‘Why do _you_ need a hug? I’m the one meeting your family! Meeting my family was easy, it’s Makie, Felix, Vera and Hakeem. You got off _easy_! I’m meeting Merle Dixon. I got to impress _Maggie Rhee,_ do you know how impossible that sounds?’

Daryl giggles. ‘You’re so nervous.’

‘No shit, man!’

‘You’re sweating!’

‘I know! Shut up!’

 Daryl steps back and looks at his boyfriend. Cleanly shaved and bright-eyed, cheeks turning a little darker now that he’s blushing. He brings up one hand to cup his face, thumb brushing over a sharp cheekbone. ‘You know it’s gonna be fine, right?’

‘Of course.’ Taiwo looks at his boots and then back up again. ‘I’m going to get cleaned up some, help the others get settled. The guy out front said we had a house?’

‘That was Aaron.’

Taiwo’s mouth opens and closes. He shoves Daryl’s shoulder, ‘you didn’t tell me that was _Aaron_. I just walked past him!’

Daryl frowns and pretends to be deep in thought. ‘Bad time to tell you we walked past Michonne, too?’

‘ _What_?’

‘Yeah, she was on her way to meet Mason. She waved at me.’

‘Everyone is always waving at you!’

Daryl laughs. ‘You’ll meet them later. You’re all sweaty and dirty anyway, so maybe it’s best to-‘

‘I hate you,’ Taiwo groans while he follows the Dixon out of the box.

‘Nah. You love me.’

Their gazes meet and they both quickly look away, ears burning.

The whole group of Washington has gathered outside the barn. Some are looking around curiously but most seem unsure now that Mason isn’t there. One of the teenagers of Alexandria comes running with a list in his hand. He stops beside Daryl, out of breath, and offers to bring the group to their assigned housing.

‘Thanks, man,’ Daryl mutters when he sees that the Kingdom’s group is arriving as well. Aaron waves him over to greet the king and take him to Rick, Michonne and Maggie. ‘I’m sorry,’ he tells Taiwo.

‘You’re busy,’ he says with a fond smile, ‘go. We’ll be fine. See you at dinner?’

‘For sure! I’ll give you all a tour and everything.’ Daryl darts forward and presses a kiss to his cheek before he runs off to greet Ezekiel.

The next couple of hours, he’s running around Alexandria to welcome the leaders of the communities, settling small disputes and helping to get everyone settled in. He catches glimpses of Carl, who is also running around to get small tasks done. The people from the Sanctuary arrive late because one of the carts had broken down half-way to Alexandria.

Daryl gets called over left and right until his head is spinning. He doesn’t have time to greet Beth, who arrives with mud on her face and walker-blood on her sleeves, but he sees how Merle lifts her clean off the ground with his hug so he guesses she’s fine. One of the water pumps breaks and he has to run to find a mechanic. Judith’s babysitter can’t get her to calm down and seems on the verge of tears, so he takes the girl and drops her off with Tara instead. The Kingdom’s group is bigger than expected so Daryl helps Carl to find them places to sleep.

‘We’re never doing this again,’ Paul grumbles when they meet in the great hall to count seats again.

‘I kind of love it.’

Paul gives him a strange look.

Daryl shrugs and beams.

‘You’re weird. I don’t know what I ever saw in you.’

‘Keep telling yourself that.’

‘It helps.’

‘Not much, stop staring at my ass, Paul!’ Daryl sniggers as he starts running again, heading back over to the Kingdom’s houses to see whether their sleeping arrangements will work out. By the time everyone is settled in, the bells are already ringing for dinner.

‘Shit,’ Daryl curses. He barges into Rick’s house, running up the stairs and past a spooked Tara and Judith. ‘Sorry!’ he yells. He washes his sweaty face and dirty hands, straightens his shirt and rubs a wet cloth over the questionable stain on his knee but gives up when the stain only gets bigger. ’Fuck it, fuck it,’ he mutters while throwing the cloth back into the sink and running down the stairs again. When he throws the door open, Enid flinches back.

‘Whoa! Hey, Dare.’

‘Good lord! Jesus.’ He puts a hand over his heart, ‘hey sis, you scared the crap out of me. Carl ain’t here.’

‘I know, he’s already in the hall, but I saw you running back to the house. Is everything all right?’

‘Yeah, I just wanted to get cleaned up real quick.’

Enid looks down at the wet stain.

‘Yeah, yeah, yeah,’ he laughs and grabs her hand to drag her towards the hall.

Everyone is already finding a seat. It’s been an extremely long time ago that Daryl saw so many people in one place. Most of them know him and many call out or grab hold of his arm to greet him when he tries to move past them. Enid lets go of his hand but curls her arm around his left to stay close. She looks nervous.

‘Hey, good to see you, hello, glad you’re here, yeah, hey,’ Daryl rattles of as he guides her through the mass of people finding seats. While moving towards the stage on the other side of the hall, he tries to find Taiwo or Amaka anywhere.

‘DARYL THE HORNDOG!’

His gaze snaps to the left. He laughs and flips Felix off, who is standing on the bench and is waving at him.

Taiwo is sitting next to him, frozen on the spot, looking horrified.

Amaka, Vera and Hakeem are laughing their asses off.

Thanks to the sheer noise of all the people in the room, not too many people even heard the teenager shouting. The people from Washington were closest and they barely blinked at all. They’re used to his antics. Daryl sniggers and glances at Rick’s table. None of his friends and family are looking at them. He gives Taiwo the all clear signal and watches how his boyfriend’s shoulder slump with relief.

Felix gets punched in the stomach and dragged back down in his seat.

‘Friends of yours?’ Enid asks.

‘Errr – The guy with the curls – that’s Taiwo. I’ve never seen those other nerds.’

Enid waves at his boyfriend.

Taiwo waves back but looks at Daryl with a puzzled look.

Daryl folds one hand over his eye.

Taiwo laughs and nods, giving Enid another wave while mouthing a greeting and her name.

It takes them a while to reach the stage. Everyone keeps stopping them to ask questions and congratulate them on pulling this whole ordeal off. The room eventually settles down when Rick rises from his seat with a cup of wine in his hand. Daryl and Enid quickly slip onto the stage to claim their places.

There’s one thing Rick’s always been good at, Daryl thinks with a secretive smirk, and that’s talking. It’s a stirring speech that leaves many in tears. About sacrifice and persistence, the dark days of the war but the light of finding new friends. Mason is introduced, though he’d preferred to be seated with his own people. He raises his cup at Rick in acknowledgement.

The meal itself is delicious and even though there is plenty, the dishes are simple. No fancy things nobody cares about, but good food. Homemade delicacies from every region imaginable. Daryl eats while chatting with Merle, Rick and Paul. He laughs with Michonne and Carl and catches up with Beth. He steals Jerry’s seat to talk to Aaron and Ezekiel, wants to know everything Cyndie has to say. Rosita berates him in Spanish for eating so little and gives him another helping. Hershel gets dumped into his lap when the boy refuses to eat his carrots and Maggie’s patience wears thing.

He watches his family. Judith who is sitting on Michonne’s knee, Maggie who is laughing with Merle and Ezekiel. Tara teases Rick and Paul jokes around with Beth and Enid. Daryl kisses the top of Hershel’s head and holds him close, missing Glenn so suddenly and so fiercely that it brings tears to his eyes.

‘Monster.’

Daryl looks up at Merle.

His big brother reaches out and puts a big hand over his wrist, squeezing it once, thumb digging into his pulse.

‘Yeah.’

Merle nods and leans back in his chair again to resume his conversation with Maggie.

‘Here, try this one. It’s less… orange,’ Daryl tells his little brother as he holds a carrot out to him. He laughs and wipes his tears away when Hershel munches on it but pulls a disgusted face anyway. ‘You clown.’

There’s laughter and stories and good food shared with family. At the end, he feels so full of it all that he thinks he might burst. Aaron jumps off the stage to talk to a friend from Oceanside and Jerry takes his leave to seek out some friends in the hall. Daryl chews on his lip as he watches how Amaka leans over the table to whisper to Taiwo, who’s still playing with some of his food. He hasn’t come over to meet anyone and Daryl start to doubt whether he might not want to after all. There are free seats now. There’s plenty of room for him at the table.

‘ _Dare_!’

‘Don’t bother,’ Carl smirks just when Daryl blinks and looks at Enid, who’d been trying to get his attention, ‘he’s drooling over his boyfriend.’

‘Boyfriend?’ Judith scrunches her nose up.

‘Yeah, Daryl’s got a boyfriend,’ Carl tells her. ‘Didn’t you know?’

‘Where? Who is he? Who is it?’ she climbs on top of her chair and stands on the tips of her toes. ‘Where is he? _Where_?’

‘Stop being stupid and sit on your butt,’ Daryl tells her with a glare. ‘He don’t need you gawking at him from across the room like that!’

Judith pouts. ‘Sorry.’

A hand tickling the back of his neck causes Daryl to look at Maggie, who is now sitting next to him. She glances over to the hall, ‘we’re all curious. She’s just excited.’

‘I know,’ Daryl worries his bottom lip and glances at his boyfriend, who pretends he wasn’t looking their way. ‘Should I ask him if he wants to come say hi now? I mean-‘

‘Yes, Daryl. Invite him to come sit at our table. We’d love to meet him.’

The youngest Dixon nods and gets up.

Everyone at the table falls silent.

Daryl blushes. ‘I’m just going to… bail. For a second. Er…’ He makes a flustered gesture with his hand before jumping off the stage and slinking away into the crowd. This time, it doesn’t take him long to reach Taiwo’s seat. His hands feel sweaty when he looks down at him. ‘Hey.’

‘Hi Daryl,’ Amaka beams. ‘The food is really great. We loved it!’

Taiwo smiles, ‘’s up?’

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ Daryl grins at the girl. ‘Is it okay if I steal Taiwo for a little while?’

‘You know the deal,’ Amaka says as she holds out her hand for him to shake. ‘In exchange for Khamsin.’

Taiwo bats her hand away. ‘Joker.’ He gets up and wipes his hands on his jeans nervously. ‘Yeah – I mean. Err, you can steal me for a while.’

Daryl laughs. ‘Thank you. They’re all real excited to meet you. Anytime you wanna run for the hills, though, you gotta swear to take me with you because I’m sweating now too. I swear they’re nice,’ he promises when Taiwo looks scared, ‘and you’re great! I don’t know why I’m scared.’

‘You went from nervous to scared in two seconds flat. Are we ever going to make it to that table?’

‘We are,’ Daryl grins. He reaches out and takes his hand, laces their fingers together.

‘Sweaty!’ Taiwo complaints. He pretends to pull his hand back but doesn’t actually let go. ‘Ew! _Ew_!’

‘My bodily fluids don’t usually disgust you.’

‘That makes everything sounds ten times worse, bodily fluids? Gross. I don’t know but that just sounds fucking gross, man,’ Taiwo laughs and then leans in closer. ‘Are we really talking about your come while walking up-‘

‘Shut up!’

‘You started it with your _bodily fluids_!’

Daryl laughs and knocks their shoulders together. ‘Yeah, okay, but shut up anyway. Best behavior! I don’t want Merle to fucking strangle you.’

‘I’m back to being scared, thanks.’

‘We can still run if- oh no, too late. Michonne is watching us.’

‘Everyone in the whole room is watching us, you dork,’ Taiwo hisses.

‘We should give them a show.’

‘I’m so done with you!’

Daryl laughs as they walk up the small set of stairs together. He can appreciate that most of the people at the table try very hard to keep their conversations going even though they’re all hyper-aware of the fact that he’s back and holding hands with another boy. He tugs Taiwo along to the other end of the table, where Merle, Beth and Maggie are seated.

‘Erm…’ he wobbles on the balls of his feet. ‘Everyone? This is Taiwo, from Washington D.C.’ He wipes his nose on the back of his free hand. ‘My boyfriend. Tai? This is Merle, my brother.’

Hey.’

Merle lifts an unimpressed eyebrow. He folds his arms in front of his chest and slowly looks Taiwo up and down, from his boots to the last end of his curls.

‘Stop checking me out,’ Taiwo says. ‘I’m taken.’

Daryl freezes.

Merle blinks. Then he snorts and kicks one of the empty chairs backwards, away from the table. ‘So he got himself a mouthy one, I can respect that, but you better not be all talk!’

Beth rolls her eyes and pushes a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. ‘That’s Merle for; please have a seat.’ She pats the chair he’d kicked out next to her. ‘It’s good to see you again, Taiwo. I love what you’ve done with your hair. It looks good.’

‘Thanks. Hi Beth,’ Taiwo says as he sits down on the edge of the seat. He glances at Maggie. ‘Hello.’

Maggie gives him a fond smile. ‘Hello, Taiwo. It’s nice to finally put a face with the name. We’ve heard a lot about you.’

‘Same. Yeah. Really nice.’ Taiwo’s mouth falls open for a second when he spots Hershel in her lap. Big brown eyes and dark hair, staring right back at him. ‘Hey, little dude! Wow, is that Hershel?’

‘Yeah!’ Daryl gushes as he takes the seat next to his boyfriend. ‘You recognized Maggie, right?’

‘From the drawings, yeah,’ Taiwo laughs. ‘It’s been a bit of a learning curve to understand who’s who to who,’ he tells Maggie, ‘but I think I got most of it down by now. That must be asskicker. Daryl laughed at me for days when he found out I hadn’t realized Judith and Asskicker were the same person.’

‘That’s me!’ Judith shouts.

‘I know! Hi!’

She waves at Taiwo and then beams at Rick, who gives her a wink.

‘Grimes-approved,’ Michonne laughs. She reaches out to shake his hand and introduce herself.

‘He already was because I met him first,’ Carl gloats.

‘Technically Paul did. He were with me when I ran into him,’ Daryl objects.

‘That’s not _meeting_ someone. And Jesus can’t make him _Grimes-approved_. Are you fucking stupid?’

‘Jesus-approved is way better anyway!’

‘Says who?’

‘Says-‘

Maggie rolls her eyes at Taiwo, who’s following the exchange between the two brothers with a hint of fascination. ‘Boys,’ she says. ‘Behave.’

‘Yeah, _behave_ , Dare,’ Carl leers. ‘Or your mom is gonna whoop you!’

‘Best shut your damn mouth,’ Merle warns with narrowed eyes, ‘or I’m gonna do it for ya, mini-pig. Nobody teases Darlina but me.’

Maggie looks at him sharply, ‘we have a guest. Is this the famous southern hospitality?’

‘Muscles over there is screwing my baby brother and I’m supposed to show him southern hospitality?’ Merle asks, putting a hand over his heart. ‘Why, ma’am, my  _sincere_  apologies. Let me try that again.’ He leans forward onto the table so he can look at Taiwo. The smile melts from his face. ‘I’m gonna break all your bones, boy. You mess around with him? I’m gonna slit your throat after breaking all your bones. Gonna let you turn,’ he nods. ‘Best believe it.’

‘I do,’ Taiwo nods. ‘Are you going to eat that pomegranate?’

‘Am I going to-‘

‘Here,’ Beth plucks it from Merle’s plate and hands it over to Taiwo.

‘Thanks, share?’ Taiwo looks at Daryl.

Daryl snorts and nods. ‘Sure.’

Merle looks left and right and holds up his hands when Tara starts sniggering at him. He shakes his head. ‘At least you got balls, but I’ve got my eye on you, kid. Don’t play no games with old Merle now.’

Maggie laughs and leans over to talk to Taiwo. Their conversation is soft and Daryl can only catch bits and pieces of what Taiwo is telling her. It’s mostly about Washington and Amaka, about their dad and what Taiwo likes to do in his free time, how the road had been today.

‘Relax,’ Beth tells Daryl. ‘He’s fitting in fine.’

‘Yeah,’ he beams. ‘I think so, too.’

 

 

When it gets dark, the fire pits outside are lit. Musicians find their instruments and play songs that some people still vaguely remember. The night is filled with laughter, wine is being passed around, people share stories and jokes and news. It’s cool out, but the many fires make it bearable. Maggie is sitting next to the fire with Hershel asleep in her lap. The rest of her family surrounds her.

Only Daryl, Carl and Enid are sitting at the next fire over. They’ve been joined by the gang from Washington. Rosy from the long journey, new impressions and couple of sips of wine. Even Felix is quiet when Beth starts singing.

There are people dancing under the moonlight. Lovers holding each other close, shuffling awkwardly or twirling each other with confidence. Friends sway to beat as well. Enid manages to convince Carl to get up and dance. Daryl can spot Rick and Michonne among the people, too. Rosita is dancing with a soldier from the Kingdom, Aaron and Cyndie fall into an easy rhythm while they talk.

‘So... do you think it went okay?’

Daryl looks at Taiwo. ‘You’re shitting me, right? They might love you more than me.’

Taiwo rolls his eyes. He glances at the people and seems embarrassed. ‘Do you know how to dance?’

‘Yeah. Rosita taught me. Why?’

‘Just wondering.’

Daryl waits a beat and then laughs. He gets up and holds out his hand. ‘Come on. Let’s dance.’

It doesn’t surprise him that Taiwo has a good sense of rhythm, or that he knows the words to the song. He whispers along with Beth, never missing a beat. His hand feels clammy but Daryl doesn’t mind. His does too, probably. At first they dance with some distance between them but then Daryl tugs him closer, not caring what anyone might think or say.

‘My birthday.’

Taiwo frowns, ‘what?’

‘It feels like it’s my birthday. It’s a good day today, it reminds me of my birthday.’

‘Oh.’ Taiwo is silent for a beat. ‘Feels like Christmas.’

Daryl nods. ‘Fourth of July.’

‘Last day of school before the summer.’

‘All of that,’ Daryl agrees with a smile.

Taiwo presses a kiss to his cheek and whispers into his ear; ‘the rest of our lives, together.’

 

 


	46. Same

 

* * *

 

 

 

Daryl wakes up because someone is kissing his jaw line. He smiles and sleepily reaches up to let his fingers sink into Taiwo’s curls, pulling him closer. The smile only widens when his boyfriend’s weight settles against his side, one leg coming to rest between his. A hand roams over his naked arm, over his shoulder blades, down his back. Fingertips touch the waistband of his underwear.

‘Spoilsport,’ Taiwo whispers into his ear.

Daryl lifts his hips off the mattress.

‘Eager,’ his boyfriend says before falling onto his back and pulling his boyfriend none too gently on top of him. ‘Not right now though, I was just playing.’

‘Good lord,’ Daryl laughs but he can’t complain about the heat suddenly surrounding him. He shifts to get more comfortable. A thought crosses his mind. One eye blinks open as he grins, ‘you got balls of steel, sneaking into Rick’s house.’

‘Well, I thought my dashing boyfriend would come sneaking through _my_ window, but alas. I had to take matters in my own hand. Besides, who the hell made me room with Felix _and_ Hakeem? One snores and the other hogs the blankets, man.’ He noses at Daryl’s dark hair. ‘Also, Michonne totally caught me scoping the place out and let me in. Sorry to kill your boner. I know that doesn’t sound as cool as sneaking into Rick’s house.’

‘Didn’t kill nothing,’ Daryl murmurs as he moves his hips.

Taiwo bites his ear.

‘I just woke up, give me a break.’ The Dixon’s hand roams over his boyfriend’s body before he settles down with a sigh again, eyes closed and lips pressing barely-there kisses against the dark skin. One eye blinks open suddenly. ‘She was up? Michonne?’

‘Yeah. She was sitting on the little bench in the front yard. I totally didn’t see her man,’ Taiwo groans. ‘I tried climbing up that tree to get to the window and she watched my pathetic ass struggle for a while before telling me that I could use the stairs. _You know,_ inside _the house_ ,’ he says in a tone of voice that sound eerily like Michonne’s.

‘You’re the one who wanted to sleep in your own bed tonight.’

‘I’m just scared of having breakfast at the Dixon-Grimes-Rhee table.’

‘Tough because we’re having breakfast at the Dixon-Rhee-Greene-Walsh-Grimes-Chambers-Espinosa-Rovia table and that’s way worse.’ His fingers pluck at his boyfriend’s curls. ‘Did anyone give you the boyfriend talk yet?’

‘Not yet – leave the hair alone. Get some more sleep, it’s early still.’

Daryl giggles sleepily, burying his nose into the crook of his boyfriend’s neck. ‘You’re the one who woke me up.’

‘I didn’t want to get stabbed when you finally noticed there was someone in your bed.’

Daryl rolls his hips.

‘Oh, _haha_!’ Taiwo’s body shakes with laughter, ‘you got me anyway. Stop humping me and get some sleep, you dork.’ He wraps his arms around the Dixon, one hand drawing lazing circles on his naked back.

Daryl doesn’t know when he falls asleep, but he wakes up next to the other boy about an hour later. Taiwo is still on his back, one arm now covering his eyes against the first rays of sunshine, the other hand has snuck under the waistband of his own underwear in his sleep. It’s all he’s wearing.

Daryl reaches out carefully and touches the boy’s cheek. Fingertips trace his jawline, the cheekbones, eyebrows, ears. There’s a tiny scar on his cheek, probably from some kind of childhood accident. The touch doesn’t wake the teenager, but he moves in his sleep to seek it out, nuzzling the palm of Daryl’s hand while making a content noise.

Sometimes, it still amazes the Dixon that they’ve found each other in this world. From their first run-in, a mixture of confusion, hostility and curiosity, to all their other meetings at Washington. He likes how Taiwo is never scared to voice his opinion, pushes back against him, but how they always compromise to find solid middle ground. One word is enough to make either one back down and wait the storm out, sometimes still a little uncertain whether they’ve pushed too hard this time around but always proven wrong. Their apologies come quick and easy, though explanations are often still just explosions between them, words meant to cut and bleed instead of making the other understand. Shocking revelations about scars and pasts and nightmares, quieting down into whispered confessions hours later. Halting conversations where eyes barely meet in the dark.

It has worked for them.

Now, Daryl feels stupid for ever being nervous about Taiwo visiting Alexandria. It doesn’t matter that some people do a double take when they walk down the street together, laughing and joking and holding hands, or that others glare when they sit on each other’s laps when Felix has stolen one of their seats. Most people laugh at their antics anyway and nothing makes him feel more confident than Taiwo shooting him that genuine small grin of his.

Rumors don’t bother Taiwo, though they make Daryl feel uneasy. Tall tales are being told around campfires to the Washington community, who weren’t part of the war but saw the explosions at night, and found Saviors in the streets, scared out of their minds and feverishly whispering about _Alexandria_. People step aside when anyone of Rick’s family walks past, bowing their heads, eyes down-cast. Some stop Daryl to shake his hand or introduce their found-family members, proudly smiling when saying they’d fought beside the youngest Dixon during the war.

At first Felix, Hakeem and even Vera had seemed intimidated or maybe even in awe of the stories and looks and way Daryl and his family is treated, but everyone can always trust Amaka to lighten the mood with a clever remark at Daryl’s expense.

Daryl smiles fondly at the sleeping boy before shifting to the edge of the mattress and stretching. He’s not surprised that when he glances over his shoulder, one eye is open and looking at him blearily.

‘I’m going to help Dante at the stables,’ Daryl says. ‘It’s just before dawn. Get some more sleep, I’ll come and get you for breakfast.’

‘You better, because I’m too scared I’ll bump into Rick or Michonne on the way out. I don’t need to be cornered like that after coming out of their son’s bedroom.’

‘Ain’t their son,’ Daryl mutters as he puts his jeans and socks on, stomps on his boots and then grabs a shirt out of his closet.

Taiwo sits up in the bed. ‘It’s clear they think you are.’

‘They can think what they want. Free country.’

‘Daryl.’

‘Don’t Daryl me at five in the morning when you don’t know what you’re talking about.’

Taiwo pulls the blankets up to his chin and makes a whining noise. ‘ _Don’t Daryl me_!’

Daryl laughs and waves his knife at his boyfriend before storing it in its sheath. ‘You’re lucky you’re cute.’

Taiwo opens and closes his mouth and then smiles shyly before rubbing at the side of his head and yawning. ‘Are you sure I don’t need to help with the horses? I don’t want people to think I’m being lazy.’

‘People will think I’ve worn ya out,’ Daryl grins as he walks over to the bed to lean over his boyfriend. His fingertips trace Taiwo’s lips. He laughs softly when a tongue comes poking out. ‘Just playing,’ he mocks, repeating the words from earlier this morning back to him. ‘Get some more sleep, ya lazy bum.’ He grabs his crossbow from where its leaning against the desk and clips his gun to his belt. By the door, he hesitates. Fingers scratch at the wood. His ears burn. ‘Hey,’ he says. ‘Same.’

‘Same what?’ Taiwo murmurs into the pillow.

‘You’ll figure it out.’

‘Okay. Same!’

Daryl shakes his head fondly and leaves. Heat shoots up from his chest, up his neck to his cheeks and the very tips of his ears. He almost wants to hop and skip down the stairs, slide down the railing, but everyone else is still asleep. He grabs an apple he’ll share with Khamsin from the bowl and slips out of the house without making a sound.

He spots Dante sooner than he’d thought. Habit has him checking Merle’s house where most of the people from Hilltop have taken up residence. Maggie with Hershel, Paul, Kal and his girlfriend, Merle himself of course, a couple more guards and Dante.

The man is standing on the porch now, lingering at the door like he doesn’t want to leave.

Maggie is standing in the doorway. She’s laughing softly at something he says and points towards the stables with a mock-glare.

Dante slumps and slinks back to her, leaning against the door. He kisses her.

Maggie leans into the kiss for a moment but then pushes him playfully away again. ‘Get to work!’ she laughs.

Dante shushes her as he sneaks off the porch, as if he’s scared she’ll wake people. When his feet hit the garden path, he looks up and pales at the sight of the teenager staring at them. ‘Shit,’ he says. ‘Daryl, I-‘

‘Dare,’ Maggie takes a step towards him but glances over her shoulder. She hasn’t closed the door or even let go of it. Hershel is probably crawling around in the living room. ‘Dare, come here.’

The happiness he’d felt earlier has been replaced so swiftly and suddenly that it leaves him reeling. His ears are ringing like the time Carl had fired his gun right next to his face to save their lives during the war. An odd sensation travels up his arm. He looks down at his hand. His fingernails are digging into the flesh of the apple. His whole hand is white from the tension. It feels strange to relax it. The apple falls into the grass and he shakes his hand out like he would after landing a punch during training.

‘Daryl,’ Dante starts but he trails off.

‘Dare, come here and talk to me,’ Maggie orders.

Daryl frowns and turns on his heels. Behind him, he can hear Maggie telling Dante to let him go, which causes him to start running in case Dante wouldn’t. The streets are empty at this time. The sun is rising and the world is made out of black and white. Dark shadows on top of the wall move closer to the gate when Daryl comes running up to it.

‘Open it up, I’m going outside,’ Daryl says, his voice shaky due to anger and confusion.

‘It’s not light out yet,’ one of the guards says as he leans on the railing to look down at the Dixon with narrowed eyes. ‘Rick has ordered the gates to remain closed until it’s light out.’

‘Open it up, right now.’

The second guard glances at the first but then starts down the stairs to release the lock. He must have felt the glare from his friend because he shrugs helplessly and gestures at the Dixon while opening the gate. ‘It’s Daryl, man, what do you want me to do?’

It barely registers with Daryl. He just glares at the gate until it slides open. Slow at first until the guard picks up speed. When he steps forward to help, quick footsteps behind him cause him to turn around. A vicious remark on the tip of his tongue, but it’s not Dante.

It’s Paul. Hair a mess, laces of his boots undone and his shirt still in his hand. Bare-chested, still adjusting the two belts that holds his signature knives. He’s panting but flashes Daryl a bright smile despite the hour. ‘Hi.’

‘Go away.’

‘No.’

‘I’m just going to check the snares. Leave me alone.’ Daryl slips through the crack and isn’t surprised that Paul follows him. The scout shrugs his shirt on and stops every couple of steps to tie the laces of his boots. A short sprint has him caught up next to the teenager again.

Daryl ducks into the woods and ignores him. There’s anger thrumming in his veins. A strange mixture of betrayal and shame for feeling that at all, a sudden surge of insecurity and uncertainty that makes him sick to his stomach.

A walker comes stumbling over. Daryl takes his crossbow off and throws it onto the ground. The knife feels better now. He grabs the corpse by the neck, something Shane forbade him from ever doing because it brings his hand and arm needlessly close to rotting teeth. The tip of his knife buries itself into the skull before the walker even snaps at him. It crumbles at his feet.

It doesn’t make him feel better.

‘Poor posture.’

Daryl glances at Paul.

‘You didn’t need to grab him. You’re leaning too much on your left foot. Out of balance,’ Paul says with a pointed look at his boots.

‘He weren’t fighting back, man. It’s just a geek.’

‘Still,’ Paul says with a shrug. He folds his arms in front of his chest. ‘Poor posture. You’d think Shane would have taught you better than that.’

‘Say his name again and you’ll be swallowing your own damn teeth,’ Daryl warns. ‘Stop tryin’ to rile me up.’

‘Dante did that all on his own. Well,’ Paul smiles, ‘with a little bit of help from Maggie, of course.’

The first kick misses because he wants it to. It comes close enough to make Paul back up a step and assume his position, and that was its purpose. Paul lifts his hands and nods, leaving it up to teenager to make the real opening move.

It feels good to not pull his punches. He’s sick of training, he’s sick of stopping and running laps before continuing, he’s sick of bowing and training matches and not a single punch being allowed to land. He’s sick of being careful, and everyone being careful with him.

Paul isn’t. Not right now, at least. Normally he insists on Daryl taking breaks, keeps track of whether he’s drinking enough water during training sessions, scolds him when he’d try to get out of warming up and cooling down. Normally his boots, fists and knees barely collide.

They do now.

Daryl manages to land a punch against Paul’s shoulder but it doesn’t faze the man. He simply moves with the force, allowing Daryl to lean in close, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him closer, down. His knee connects with Daryl’s stomach.

‘Breathe through it, focus,’ Paul orders when he pushes the teenager away from him. He needs to jump to miss Daryl’s sweep with his right leg. ‘Good.’

‘Stop fucking coaching me,’ Daryl snarls.

‘You need it,’ Paul smirks. ‘You’re projecting, stop thinking about-‘ he needs to stop to avoid the series of jabs coming his way, barely dodging them at all. The strange mixture of various martial arts, police and military training coming from the teenage always keeps him on his toes. Daryl doesn’t follow any rules at all. He fights dirty without any shame. Kicks up a straight-enough branch and breaks it to the correct length to make it a bo.

‘Cheating,’ Paul pants as he brushes his long hair back.

‘Winning,’ Daryl snaps. There’s sweat dripping down his sideburns. He burns up all his anger by trying to keep up with the more skilled fighter. Bruises bloom on his arms and back. The pain always something he craves when he’s confused and his emotions are spiraling out of control.

He steps forward to jab the make-shift bo at the man but Paul grabs hold of the wood. He lets go before he’s yanked off his feet. For a second, he thinks he’s gotten the jump on Paul with his high kick but he should have known better. He feels a hand grab hold of his ankle and knows it’s all over.

A grunt. The world goes spinning, and Daryl lands on the ground with a smack. Pain causes his vision to blur. Paul’s boot settles on his throat to claim his victory. Daryl closes his eyes and breathes through the pain.

‘Famous last words,’ Paul tells him, voice soft as he removes his boot and looks down at the teenager. ‘Can you sit up?’

‘I’m fine.’

Paul kneels down side him and pulls at his arm until Daryl sits up. He gently takes the baseball cap off and brushes dark hair behind a pale ear. ‘You’re a terrible liar,’ he says. ‘I keep telling you.’

‘I don’t know why I’m angry,’ Daryl says. There are tears in his eyes when he finally opens them. He pulls his feet towards him, plucking at the hole in his jeans above the knee. ‘Ain’t nothing to me. Should have seen it fucking comin’ anyway, just never thought-.’ He works his jaw and scowls. ‘Don’t change nothing.’ He doesn’t sound sure of it at all.

Paul sits down next to him. Legs the other way so they’re still facing each other. ‘It doesn’t.’

‘Doesn’t change how she felt about him neither,’ Daryl says, almost defiantly.

‘You’re right. It doesn’t.’

The teenager nods. He wipes his tears away angrily. ‘He likes Kiss. That’s good.’

Paul shoots him a small smile.

‘Should be fucking happy for her,’ Daryl says through gritted teeth. ‘’s a good guy, ‘nd she deserves to be happy, ya know? I want that. ‘course I do, just-‘

Paul puts his hand on Daryl’s sweaty neck and draws him close. ‘Come here,’ he whispers, pulling the teenager into a hug. He lets him hide away in his neck, making shushing noises when Daryl starts to cry. ‘It’s okay.’ He kisses his temple and just waits.

After a couple of minutes, Daryl sighs and kisses the shoulder before leaning back again. He wipes the tears away. ‘Thanks.’

‘You’re welcome.’ Paul runs a hand through the dark hair. His nose is just an inch away from Daryl’s, their breath is mixing between them. ‘You’re all snotty and sweaty.’

Daryl snorts and shoves him away. ‘Good lord. Let’s head down to the creek. It won’t be as cold. Merle threw me into the river the other day – almost froze my goddamn balls off. He thought I was being a smart-ass,’ he says when Paul quirks an eyebrow. ‘He was right, but still…’ He gets up and grabs his crossbow. ‘Does everyone except me know about Maggie and Dante?’

‘No,’ Paul puts his hands in the pockets of his jeans. ‘Just you and me, I think. They wanted to be sure before they told you. I bet they feel awful about you finding out like this.’

Daryl shrugs. ‘I was just shocked, I guess. I don’t know. It’s weird – it’s always been Glenn ‘nd Maggie, right? So… I don’t know, just never thought about it being any other way.’ He wrinkles his nose. ‘Who the hell thinks about their mom hookin’ up with someone?’

Paul snorts. ‘I don’t know. I never had to worry about that.’

‘Yeah… maybe we can find some old lady who’ll adopt you now.’ Daryl bites on the nail of his thumb to hide his smile.

‘He dries his tears and now he’s all jokes again. Great. I’m so glad I could help you out there.’

‘Whoopin’ my ass six ways from Sunday ain’t _helping out_.’

Paul shoots him a side-glance. ‘It was.’

‘Yeah it was, stop gloating,’ Daryl gives him a shove again. They head down to the creek where Daryl washes his face and hair. The baseball cap is clipped to his belt so it won’t get all wet. The water is cold, but no longer freezing temperatures. Everywhere around them, grass is growing high and flowers are starting to bloom. Young animals scurry away into the green.

Daryl puts his crossbow down and takes his shirt off to wash himself.

‘You’re out here more than any of us,’ Paul says suddenly. ‘Beyond any walls, out on the road. Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary? Anything that didn’t seem quite right to you?’

‘No. Why?’

‘It’s strange – at first I thought it was just because we were training more people to be outside of the walls, right? Maybe they just aren’t used to it yet. Farmers tending to the fields, guards patrolling the border, people visiting Alexandria or the Kingdom – some even going all the way to Oceanside. They told me the walkers were acting strangely.’

Daryl glances over his shoulder. ‘ _The walkers are acting strangely_? Are you kiddin’ me right now?’

‘That’s how I reacted, too. I didn’t think anything of it but more people are reporting strange incidents. It’s easier to notice when we’re all together. The guards from the Kingdom say they saw a whole herd standing in the middle of a field about a month ago. Just standing there.’ Paul walks over to the creek and squats down next to the teenager. ‘Amaka told a story about walkers _whispering_ to each other yesterday at the campfire.’

‘Amaka’s full of shit,’ Daryl says automatically, ‘she’ll say anything to freak you out. Ghost stories around a campfire? That’s got you all riled up?’ He scoffs. ‘That’s why you came with me? To watch my back?’

‘You can take care of yourself,’ Paul dismisses. ‘I know that, but Daryl… Are you sure there hasn’t been anything strange happening out here?’

Daryl frowns and thinks. He shrugs. ‘Sometimes weird shit just happens, man – I don’t know. No.’

‘What makes you say that,’ Paul urges. ‘What weird shit?’

The Dixon rolls his eyes. ‘There was a walker – I took Taiwo’s gang to the Kingdom, right? We cut through the woods, I looked back at the patrol trail – thought I’d heard something weird. There was a walker standing there, just lookin’ at me. Felix and them were making a bunch of noise but it didn’t come over.’

‘Did you take it down?’

‘No, they called my name so I looked away for a second. When I looked again…’ he shrugs. ‘He was just gone, man. That the kind of weird shit you were looking for?’

Paul breathes out and laces his fingers together, elbows resting on his bent knees. ‘Yes. We need to alert the leaders.’

‘Maggie’s a little busy right now.’

‘I’m serious, Daryl,’ Paul scoops up some water and splashes it at the young man. He gets up. ‘Let’s talk to Maggie and Rick first. See what they have to say.’

 

 

Most of the horses have already been turned out and younger farmhands are cleaning out boxes when Daryl returns. Wheelbarrows filled with dirty bedding, shovels and brooms lean against open doors. Two girls carry one bale of shavings to one stall. A smaller boy tries to follow them, but he has trouble lifting the heavy bale on his own.

‘Here, I got it,’ Daryl takes it from him. ‘Where does it need to go?’

‘I had it!’ the boy protests with red ears, almost stomping his feet.

‘ _Christian_!’ one of the girls hisses. ‘Say thank you! God!’ She glances at Daryl and points at the one next to theirs. ‘He’s working on this one, sir – I mean, Daryl. Thank you so much. That’s sweet of you.’

‘You’re welcome,’ Daryl carries the bale over and throws it into the empty stall. He gives the boy’s shoulder a pat. ‘Didn’t mean to kill your game, my man. Where’s Dante at?’

‘He’s outside,’ the boy grumbles, ‘cleaning out the buckets.’

When the Dixon walks away, he hears how one of the girls starts to giggle nervously while the other stomps over to the smaller boy to lecture him about who the hell he was just mouthing off to. The smile fades off his own face when he rounds the corner and sees that Dante is sitting on the fence. He’s eating an apple. The buckets are drying in the early morning sun.

Daryl bites on his lip. Wobbles on the balls of his feet. Scratches at the back of his neck before walking over. ‘Ain’t much of a breakfast.’

Dante looks over. ‘Oh! Hey… No. I mean…’ he shrugs, ‘just an appetizer.’

‘Fancy. Ezekiel would approve.’

The corner of Dante’s mouth twitches upwards. ‘I guess so.’

‘I was planning on helping with mucking out the stalls, but…’

‘Yeah… listen, I’m sorry that you found out like that, but I care a lot about Maggie,’ Dante says as he shifts on the fence so he can look at the teenager. ‘We’ve been spending a lot of time together, getting to know each other, and I really like her. So… I hope you’re okay with that.’

‘Yeah, of course. Sorry I freaked out a little bit. Wasn’t really about you,’ Daryl wipes his nose on the back of his hand, ‘but I’m glad it’s you, ya know? Khamsin likes ya, so you gotta be a’right.’

Dante laughs. ‘What does that say about Paul? She hates him.’

‘Being fucking handsome doesn’t make you a good person.’ Daryl laughs and shakes his head. ‘Come on, let’s get some real breakfast. I gotta stop by my house to pick Tai up though.’

‘I saw him heading over to the hall not too long ago,’ Dante says as he jumps down from the fence and leans into the barn to give the young farmhands some last instructions. ‘He was with Michonne, Rick, Judith – all of them.’

‘I’m gonna be murdered. They ganged up on him? Oh man…’

‘It all looked very friendly. Carl was there, if that helps.’

‘It don’t, man!’

Dante laughs. ‘Sorry. Maggie said he was very nice though, so I bet Michonne will like hi-‘

‘She said he was nice?’ Daryl asks eagerly, looking at the man walking next to him. ‘She said that? Nice? What else did she say?’

Dante blinks. ‘Err… That you have to clean your room more often, and do your homework and-‘

‘Oh, shut up.’

They walk through the streets where market stalls have now been erected. Long wooden tables with the wares all stalled out. It officially opens this morning, after breakfast, and Paul has agreed to bring up the issues with the walkers after today’s festivities. There’s no immediate threat and seeing both Maggie and Rick enjoy the fair semi-carelessly will be the reward for all their hard work.

Daryl tries to see what’s on all the stalls but most of it is still covered. Some people lift the blanket so he can sneak a peek, winking at him when lowering it again. He beams and skips ahead to the great hall in the center of it all.

The noise is almost deafening. People laughing and talking, eating and drinking, meeting new people. When yesterday had been a little formal and strange, today it’s a true party. Children are running around with faded party hats on and someone has found balloons.

Daryl looks back when Dante starts to head over to the Hilltop’s table. ‘Hey, you don’t wanna-‘ he gestures to table up on the platform, where Maggie is sitting next to Rick. The man has Hershel in his lap, and feeds him tiny bites from his own plate. ‘You could sit with us, you know.’

Dante smiles. ‘Thank you, but… I’ll sit here for now.’

‘Yeah, okay – sure.’ He heads over to the stage. Taiwo is sitting across from Maggie. Back perfectly straight, a polite smile on his face as he nods along while listening to her. He’s eating with knife and fork while Carl just shoves some bread into his mouth next to him, not caring about manners. ‘Good morning,’ Daryl greets as he falls into the seat next to his boyfriend, across from Rick. ‘Sorry – things ran out because of… stuff.’

Taiwo gives him a horribly fake smile and puts his hand on Daryl’s leg, just above his knee. ‘That’s okay,’ he says and then squeezes as hard as he can, ‘ _sweetheart_.’

Daryl yelps because of the pain and jerks his knee up to get away from the assault. It knocks hard against the table. The shock upsets several glasses. ‘Holy mother of _fuck_!’

Taiwo winces and looks at Maggie and Rick, who just seem amused. ‘Sorry, but you totally deserved that!’ Taiwo hisses at him. ‘Are you kidding me?’

‘I said I was sorry, it all took a little longer than-‘

‘You didn’t lock the door, you idiot! Apparently, your little sister likes to come running into your bedroom to throw herself onto you at six in the morning. Except you weren’t there! _I was_! She freaked out! _I_ freaked out!’ Taiwo says, his voice rising in pitch.

‘Oh,’ Daryl says sheepishly. ‘Yeah – she does that when nobody else is awake and Rick’s door is locked.

‘ _Yeah_.’ Taiwo glances over at Maggie and Rick again and decides it has all gone to hell anyway. ‘I’m trying to win son-in-law points here, man! I don’t need this! _I don’t need this_!’ he says while hitting Daryl’s arm.

‘Good lord, might want to start by being nicer to me then!’

‘You make it _so_ difficult!’ Taiwo laughs.

‘Play nice boys,’ Michonne scolds with a playful glint in her eyes, ‘or I’ll tell your mothers.’

Taiwo’s eyes grow big when he looks at Daryl. ‘Does she mean Amaka?’

‘You’d be so fucked,’ Daryl giggles. ‘Mine’s laughing at your pathetic ass right now, so I’m in the clear for now.’ He looks at Maggie.

Maggie’s eyes are red-rimmed like she’s been crying.

Michonne looks embarrassed. ‘I didn’t mean to be rude, Taiwo. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-‘

‘It’s fine. It’s just me and my sister, but Mason looks after us,’ Taiwo tells her. ‘Our mom was a nurse when it all went down. One of her patients bit her, so we lost her.’ He scoots closer to Michonne to talk to her.

Daryl frowns and gets up, dragging his chair over to Maggie’s side of the table. He presses his leg against hers. ‘Are you okay?’ he asks quietly. ‘I’m sorry I ran off. He’s a good guy. Real happy for you. You deserve something good for once.’

‘I have a lot of good things,’ Maggie says as she turns to him and cups his cheek with her hand. Her thumb strokes over his beauty spot. ‘But thank you. He _is_ a good guy.’ She adjusts the baseball cap with tears in her eyes. ‘I like him.’

‘Glenn would have been real glad if you’re happy,’ Daryl says. ‘You know that, right?’

Maggie nods. A tear rolls down her face. ‘Yeah. I know.’

A chair is planted next to them at the head of the table. Merle falls into it. ‘Are you fucking makin’ her cry? Apologize.’

Maggie laughs and drags Daryl closer, kissing his forehead soundly. ‘Happy tears, Merle.’

‘Women,’ Merle grunts as he clips Taiwo across the back of his head. ‘Make yourself useful, muscles. Pass me something to eat.’

Taiwo frowns and then tosses a pomegranate at him. ‘I heard you like them.’

Merle slams his fist down. ‘This is what I get? I pull the graveyard guard shift, protect your pathetic ass all night and this is what I-‘

‘Daryl had that ass covered.’

Everyone turns to look at Enid, who’s peeling an orange. She shrugs. ‘What? Everyone was thinking it.’

Taiwo laughs and then grabs the basket with bread. He puts it down in front of Merle. ‘Here, sorry, just poking fun. Daryl said you were in the army before all this?’

Merle looks at him warily. ‘So?’

‘He’s trying to make conversation, Merle,’ Maggie tells him. ‘Be nice and play along.’

The oldest Dixon gives a long-suffering sigh but then angles his body more towards the teenager. ‘Yeah, I were in the army, were fucking better than juvie. There was this sergeant, mean-ass mother fucker, hmm? Well, he said old Merle here weren’t no good at-‘

 

 

There’s a band playing music under the gazebo. People are dancing, children clap along before running off again to explore the big market. People are trading goods and services. The new blacksmith from Hilltop has fine jewelry and the wedding bands are selling fast. Armor gets traded for bullets, Rick makes a deal for horses by trading guns away. Knives are on full display, but there are stalls with fun things as well. Children pick non-edible flowers to trade them at Julia’s stall for a ride on a horse. A former savior has opened a temporary barber shop for the men. A big line circles around the stall, with even Merle waiting for his turn in the chair. People get haircuts and trade for new clothes, get their old ones mended. Fishnets are bought and recipes shared.

Trade-deals are made about grain, fish, bio-gas and bullets.

‘So,’ Taiwo says when he guides Daryl through the maze of stalls and people, ‘you know how Rick gave Mason the gun, and now Mason gave Rick a map of Washington? Gifts for the communities, right?’

‘Yeah. Signs of good faith,’ Daryl says as he cranes his neck to look at the stall where the Kingdom is selling bows. ‘So?’

‘Me, Makie, Felix, Hakeem and Vera, we all got you a gift, too. Look,’ he drags Daryl to the side and looks at him, still holding onto his hand, ‘it didn’t mean much to you maybe, but you got that doctor to see Hakeem, right? Because he won’t talk anymore? He gave us some new books and exercises. It’s not – it’s… he said something to Felix. Something stupid – I think it was _hey_ or something, but he talked! And they also gave us books about sign language and stuff so we can learn how to do it properly – it’s not much and we’re probably still not doing it right but-‘

‘That’s great,’ Daryl says, squeezing his hand, ‘but I don’t need a gift for that. I’d pay for it if I had to of course, but I didn’t. People do me favors all the time.’

‘Yeah, I know. You didn’t have to waste the favor on us though.’

‘You’re my friends. Of course I did.’

Taiwo smiles and squeezes his hand back. ‘Well, we got you a gift anyway and it was my idea and you’re gonna love it. It looks weird at first, but you gotta hear me out. We got you a dude!’

Daryl blinks. ‘You got me a _dude_?’

‘Yeah!’ Taiwo laughs and starts running again, dragging the Dixon along with him. ‘He has set up a table at the end. He’s from the station near the church, back home. Come on! Come on!’

They run through the streets together, dodging people and slipping around corners. Once they reach the very end of the market, Daryl spots Felix, who is sitting on the last table and seems to be leafing through a book. Hakeem and Vera are sitting in the grass while Amaka balances a new knife on the palm of her hand as she walks around, almost nervously.

They all perk up when Daryl stops in front of the table.

There’s a chair that seems oddly familiar for some reason. It’s made of rich leather and reminds him of a more luxurious dentist chair, though this one doesn’t run on power. There’s a man standing next to it.

He’s wearing a white tank-top that’s in stark contrast with the black tattoos that cover both of his arms. From shoulder to fingertips, every inch is covered by ink. He’s bald, but there are tattoos creeping up from his neck to lick at his ears as well.

Daryl stares.

‘Hey,’ the man greets him. He grabs a device from the table and checks it. ‘My name’s DJ. Taiwo told me something very interesting about you, Daryl Dixon.’ He presses a button on the ground and the device starts to buzz softly. ‘I heard you wanted to become a tattoo artist? Is that true? Because I got an apprentice spot open each time you’re in town.’

Daryl blinks. He hands shake. ‘Are you serious?’

‘Ink’s serious business, my man,’ DJ grins. ’No joking matter. I saw your drawings – you’re really good with a pencil. You’ve got a lot to learn before you’ll get to hold the gun, but we’ll get there.’

Taiwo laughs. ‘Going by your face, it was a good gift.’

Daryl opens and closes his mouth but then just hugs him tightly before jumping over the table to land next to DJ to see the tattoo gun up close and start to ask his million questions.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A month later, Daryl sits in his prison cell with blood drying on his hands and clothes, and he wonders how it all went to hell so fast.

 

 

 


	47. Vultures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday anon!

 

* * *

 

 

 

It’s the third day of the fair when it happens.

Daryl is sitting on top of the gazebo with Carl. It’s still their favorite place to retreat to. It’s an easy enough structure to climb up on, especially when it’s the two of them. From up here, they can oversee the whole lake, and the grass fields surrounding it. It’s late in the afternoon and most people are settling into the grass to relax before dinner.

Carl’s hair has been cut by someone from the Kingdom and the bandages are gone. Instead, he’s wearing big sunglasses that cover most of his face, though scars still peek out from under the dark glasses. He’d found a nice pair at one of Washington’s stalls and didn’t have to pay full price. Daryl has to admit he looks pretty bad-ass with them on.

Carl is peeling an orange, fingers still sticky from the one they had earlier.

Daryl is sunbathing on his belly, chin resting on his folded arms. For once, he’s wearing the baseball cap the right way so the sun doesn’t reach his eyes. Blue eyes track Beth, who is stopping by every small group sitting the grass to shake hands and give hugs.

She’s leaving tomorrow morning. The fair will go on for a while longer, but she feels uncomfortable leaving the Sanctuary without a doctor for so long. The decision had been made this morning, during the meeting of community leaders. She’ll return with Dwight and a couple of others, but the rest of her people chose to stay for the whole week.

Daryl watches as she stops by the Oceanside group.

‘Here,’ Carl mutters as he hands a piece of the orange over.

‘Thanks.’

Beth shakes the hand of one of the women and waves at the rest before moving on.

Out of the corner of his eye, Daryl spots Judith tearing through the field with Amaka hot on her heels. The little girl is laughing, blond curls now captured in tight cornrows thanks to her new-found friend. Judith jumps up against Beth, hugging her waist clumsily.

The orange is sweet in Daryl’s mouth, bursting with flavor.

One of the women from Oceanside gets up and heads over to another group of theirs, kneeling down to whisper with them.

‘Tonight,’ Daryl says.

Carl licks the juices from his wrist. ‘I’ll warn dad.’

 

 

It feels strange to gear up again. Boots laced tightly and armor protecting his shins. His special gun holster that’s fastened to his thigh. Two more ammo clips in special pockets clipped to his belt. The hunting knife with the flowers, and the quiver with spare bolts. A simple black shirt and the hand-crafted armor from the Kingdom that protects his spine and chest.

‘Can you tell me what’s going on?’ Taiwo is sitting on the bed. Legs folded beneath him, elbows on his knees. One hand supporting his chin.

Daryl walks over to the window and pushes the curtain aside. ‘Yeah.’ He watches how shadows move in the house down the street, dark figures pacing in front of the windows. ‘Before we ever met all of them – the saviors found Oceanside and made them work for them. Half of everything belonged to the Saviors. Oceanside fought back.’ Daryl watches the lights being dimmed. ‘They didn’t win.’

‘Did Negan retaliate?’

‘Some say he didn’t know, that one of his generals took matters in his own hands – none of that matters,’ Daryl says. ‘It’s on him. He should have known. He started all of it. Don’t matter. The saviors came, rounded up all the men, all the boys over ten. They killed them all.’

Taiwo doesn’t say anything.

Daryl looks at him over his shoulder. Eyes sad, shoulder slumped. ‘They agreed to come here if none of those Saviors came. They agreed to stay at the sanctuary. We’d send Enid over early, supposedly to help pack. Carl and his guards accompanied them here,’ Daryl’s corner of his mouth, ‘to clear the road.’

Taiwo frowns. He doesn’t understand.

‘There were innocent people at the Sanctuary before,’ Daryl says as he looks out of the window. The house is dark. ‘Not anymore. They’ve been biding their time, making us think they weren’t going to try nothing, but time’s running out. Enid and Carl messed up their plans before. Beth’s going back tomorrow. They know tonight’s their only opportunity to strike.’

‘Do you really want to stop them?’

Daryl lets go of the curtain and steps back. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Taiwo shrugs and looks at the floor. ‘Every guy? Every kid over ten, man? Their husbands, friends, brothers,’ he glances up, ‘their _children_?’

‘Yes.’ Daryl checks his gun one last time. ‘Don’t start, or I might not want to do this after all. Yeah – part of me is; fuck them, right? Let Oceanside at them, burn that whole place down, why the hell should I give a damn? But it’s over. We won. And we don’t get to murder them all just because we won.’

‘Is that what Rick says?’

‘It’s what everyone except for me says. It’s time to go.’

‘Why not just stop them now? They’re probably gearing up, too. Or stop them at the gate.’

‘Ain’t no crime until you get caught red handed.’

Taiwo looks like he wants to say something else but just lets it go after a soft sigh. He gets up and adjusts Daryl’s armor. ‘I’ll get you some new armor tomorrow, this doesn’t even protect your back.’

‘Got people for that.’

Taiwo pulls him close by his hips so their noses almost touch. ‘I’ll get you new armor.’

Daryl smiles. ‘Thank you.’

They kiss softly.

‘Take me with you,’ Taiwo whispers against his lips. ‘I can help.’

‘Ain’t your fight,’ Daryl tells him. ‘Stay here. Most of our fighters are coming with us – Kingdom’s are staying of course, but Alexandria, Hilltop, we’re all gone tonight. Stay here. Keep watch.’

Taiwo frowns. ‘Is there something else going on?’

‘We’re not sure yet,’ Daryl admits. ‘There’s some weird shit going on beyond the walls – it’s why Paul insisted so many of us should go tonight. We’ll be back soon though, dawn, if not sooner. Rick wants to be back before anyone notices something went down tonight.’

Taiwo leans in and hugs him tightly. ‘Be careful.’

Daryl smiles, fingers digging into his shoulder blades as they hug.

Minutes later, he walks down the stairs by himself.

Rick is checking his Colt Python by the candle light. Michonne is leaning against the wall with a thoughtful expression on her face. Her katana is nowhere to be seen, so Rick must have convinced her to stay behind. Carl is sitting at the kitchen table. He’s not wearing his sunglasses this time. The wound is ugly and deep, a gaping hole on the side of his face, still red and raw-looking though it’s been so long that Daryl doubts it will ever fade.

Rosita is sitting on the kitchen counter. Heels thud against the door of the cabinets beneath her. She’s wearing fingerless-gloves and her green cap, three guns and a sniper rifle. Tara is leaning against the fridge next to her. The silence is broken by her blowing bubbles with her gum. They pop with a soft sound.

The revolver’s barrel spins until Rick snaps it into place.

There’s a knock on the door before it opens. Paul walks in. ‘They just left. I bet they thought they had a lucky break with two from Oceanside on guard.’

‘I bet they did,’ Rick nods. ‘They’re still on guard duty?’

‘Yes, they didn’t compromise us.’

Rick gives him a look that means he’s not sure but doesn’t answer.

It’s no coincidence that Enid is on guard duty at the east side of the wall. She’s standing there with an automatic rifle slung over her shoulder, hands deep in the pockets of one of Carl’s hoodies. She hands seven iron rods to both Carl and Daryl, holding onto them when they want to take them.

‘Good luck,’ she says.

‘Don’t need luck,’ Daryl answers.

‘Thank you,’ Carl smiles. ‘See you soon.’

With the rods in their back pockets, the two teenagers jump over the wall, hanging onto the edge and putting one rod into the little hole on the side so their feet can rest on them. They move steadily down. Under normal circumstances, Daryl would race Carl, skipping the last four rods to just jump down, but they can’t afford any twisted ankles now.

Daryl whistles when his feet hit the earth last, and the rest of their group start their descend. Slowly - none of the adults are used to sneaking out like this. Rick, Rosita and Tara. Hilltop, who’d been waiting for them near the wall. Merle curses under his breath as he goes down, Kal is fastest of them all. Eduardo and Paul, slow but steady and sure. There’s a minute pause but then Aaron starts his descend, taking the pegs out as he goes. On Daryl’s route, it’s Beth who collects them.

‘Go back,’ Daryl hisses as soon as he realizes who lands beside him. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

‘We all have jobs to do,’ Beth says as she zips her jacket up.

‘You’re a fucking doctor, go home,’ Daryl hisses. ‘You’re too goddamn valuable to be-‘

‘We all have jobs to do,’ Beth repeats, ‘and you might not like it, but they are on their way to kill _my_ people.’

‘You’re right about one thing,’ the youngest Dixon snarls, ‘I don’t like it none!’

‘Tough.’ She breezes past him, blonde ponytail swaying in step. She’s wearing protective gear from the Kingdom as well, a gun and two knives on her belt. Even in the dark, her steps are sure, swift and soundless. At the tree line, she stops and holds out her hand.

Daryl works his jaw. Then he steps forward, takes her hand and squeezes it tightly for just a second. He whistles sharply and ducks into the forest. The rest of the group follows him, falling into line without question and following him blindly.

It’s a quiet spring night. It’s dark and with just the memory of the cold winter in the air. Young branches don’t snap under their boots. The soft earth silences their footsteps. Animals scurry away but most don’t pay any mind to the small group of silent shadows. The moon ducks in and out of existence due to the clouds, but Daryl doesn’t need the silvery light to guide him. He knows the forest by heart. He slides down the creek bed and jumps over the shallow water.

Beth lands beside him. ‘Are we catching up?’

‘We’ll get there first.’

‘They left earlier,’ Beth says with doubt lacing her words.

‘The fastest way to get there is over the bridge, yeah?’

‘Yeah. We didn’t use it – we were scared it wouldn’t hold the carriages, so we took the long way around.’

‘It collapsed not too long ago,’ Daryl says. ‘They don’t know yet. They’ll reach the cross-over point and then have to go the long way around, too. We’ll get there first, like I said.’

‘How do you know it collapsed?’

‘He asked us to tear it down,’ Merle answers. ‘We got it done just before the fair.’

Beth looks at her younger brother in the dark. ‘You were so sure they would do this.’

‘Yeah, knew it in my fucking bones,’ Daryl says. ‘It’s what I would have done- hell, I tried to do it.’ He catches the sad look on her face. ‘It needed to come down anyway, it was barely stable enough for two people to cross at the same time. Last time me ‘nd Khamsin rode over it, half of it collapsed under her feet. It weren’t safe no more.’

‘I’m not sad about the bridge, Dare.’

‘Oh.’ They look at each other in the dark. ‘Let’s just go,’ Daryl mutters as he looks away first.

They move swiftly through the forest. It doesn’t take them long to reach the intersection Oceanside’s group will most likely pass. Daryl scans the forest floor and then sits down in the dewy grass to take a break. Merle falls down beside him, long legs stretched out and voice barely more than a whisper as they talk.

Rick paces. Beth stands perfectly still with her gaze on the horizon. The rest of them scatter to sit nearby. Paul walks further into the forest to take care of a walker trapped in a small bush.

The world around them turns lighter quickly.

‘What if they took another route?’ Beth asks suddenly. ‘You can’t be sure that-‘

‘Shush,’ Merle says as he sits up. ‘Got company.’ He glances at his little brother, ‘that your blood doubting ya?’

‘Ain’t ever been the smartest of the whole bunch, I guess,’ Daryl says. He smirks when Beth huffs. ‘Might be a _doctor_ but that don’t mean nothing.’

‘Quiet,’ Rick orders.

Both Dixons look at each other with raised eyebrows before pretending to throw up. Merle gets up while chuckling softly and helps Daryl to his feet too.

Oceanside’s group moves slowly. They’re not used to these kinds of woods and one of them has to keep an eye on the map at all times. Most of them have only been to the sanctuary once. It seems like a long time ago now. The world has changed in the meantime. Past landmarks have been burned down or moved, roads cleared and blocked elsewhere, bridges burned and torn down, safe-crossings created at another point.

The group is smaller than Daryl had thought. Not enough people to take the whole Sanctuary on, but still their best soldiers. A hit-squad then, for specific Saviors. It’s clear when they get closer and he sees who they are.

There’s Chantal, who’s brother had just turned eleven when the Savior had shown up.

 Tess, who’d been on her honeymoon with her high school sweetheart when the outbreak happened.

On the left is Yvon, who’d helped her grandparents get to safety by finding Oceanside.

Zenna, who still wears her best friend’s jewelry to keep him close.

A couple more who’d suffered at the hands of the Saviors. They stop dead in their tracks when Rick steps out onto the road, hands resting on his belt buckle and eyes dark. Aaron and Beth step up next to him while the rest lingers in the shadows.

‘Go home,’ Rick says. ‘This is not the way.’

Tess is the one who walks ahead to meet him. Dressed in dark colors, brown hair in a tight braid that curls over her shoulder, one hand resting on the wicked-looking knife that’s on her belt. She looks determined. ‘Then what is the way?’ she asks. ‘Leave them be? No. You got your justice. It’s time we got ours.’

‘This isn’t _justice_.’

‘It is to us.’

Daryl glances at the gray sky when a couple of birds fly overhead. Normally they wouldn’t attract his attention, he’s so used to birds flittering around in the leaves above his head, but these ones cast a shadow – they’re so big. Black against the gray, he can barely make out their features. He doesn’t need to.

With a frown, Daryl steps out onto the road to see them more clearly. They fly overhead, down the road and then start to circle.

Merle follows his gaze. ‘Herd?’ he asks.

‘No,’ Daryl mutters. ‘They don’t come near walkers unless they’re not moving anymore.’

Paul joins them with a concerned look on his face. ‘Something wrong?’ he whispers, looking at Daryl. He follows his gaze upwards. ‘What are they?’

‘Vultures,’ Merle answers. ‘Mother nature’s clean-up crew.’

‘Stay with Beth,’ Daryl tells Paul, ‘take care of this bullshit, we’ll check out what’s going on there. Something ain’t right.’

Merle frowns, ‘could just be a dead deer or something.’

‘Could be lots of things,’ Daryl says as he takes his bow and loads it. The vultures swoop down and circle, disappearing behind the tree line for a few moments before taking flight again. There’s a wide-open field there, Daryl knows. He’s seen vultures plenty of times, especially in the beginning when there were corpses just laying everywhere. Now, he rarely sees so many of them in the same spot.

With silent footsteps, the two Dixons make their way over. Down the road and then over the fence, through the trees until they can see the birds out in the field. Ten – twenty of them, fighting over something on the ground.

Daryl narrows his eyes. It’s hard to see what it is. It’s too big to just be a deer, or dead wild hog. Some birds are trying to stay air-born, fluttering around and picking at something that’s-

‘What the hell, monster,’ Merle breathes.

A second later, Daryl realizes what he’s looking at. They get closer and closer. The birds hop around nervously, one eye on them while still trying to get a bite, some have had enough and take flight, circling high above them, waiting for them to go away again.

It’s not a deer, or wild hog. It’s not just one thing either.

It’s a pile of bodies. Arms and legs, dark with dried blood. Torso’s of men and women, at least ten of them. The ground is soggy and red. When Daryl gets closer, bile rises in his throat. Feet, legs, chests, arms, hands.

No heads.

Every body has been decapitated.

He forces his gaze up, further down the field where the rest of the birds had been fluttering around.

Ten pikes stand in the middle of the field. Blood is still dripping down the wood. Some mouths open as they were cut off mid scream, eyes missing thanks to the birds, others are missing chunks of cheeks and their tongues.

Daryl takes a shuddering breath.

Merle’s hand is warm on his shoulder, thumb rubbing comforting circles into the skin while he looks around, scanning the tree line. ‘Didn’t happen too long ago. Do you-‘

‘Saviors,’ Daryl says. ‘They’re from the Sanctuary. Two patrol groups.’

‘Do you think Oceanside got to them after all? Another group could have left later.’

‘This ain’t them. That group is after specific people. The ones who were there when they killed their men. This is a random attack. Anyone they could grab.’

‘How do you know?’

Daryl walks over to one of the pikes. A woman. Long red hair waving in the early-morning breezes. Eyes plucked out by the vultures. He knows they were green. ‘Negan wouldn’t let one of his wives go outside of the Sanctuary. She weren’t there.’

Merle shifts his weight. ‘You knew her?’

Daryl works his jaw and twists his hand in the strap of his bow so the rough material cuts into his skin. ‘Yeah.’ He turns away. ‘Yeah, I knew her. Let’s get Rick down here.’

 

 

Negan sits in the corner of his cell. There are dark circles around his eyes, his skin is pasty and greasy-looking. The beard is wild, the hair grayer than Daryl remembers it. He looks skinny and small, dressed in some kind of jumpsuit. ‘Shouldn’t you be at the party, little prince?’ he drawls but the words sound flat, lacking their usual bite and tease. ‘Sounds like a riot.’

‘Last night, a group from Oceanside went out to kill anyone who’d been involved in the massacre of their people. They tried to get to the Sanctuary. We stopped them.’

Negan doesn’t look up. His head is leaning against the wall. He stares at the opposite wall.

‘We think another group got to them first – took two patrol groups. Ten people in total. Beheaded them.’

Negan’s gaze slowly drifts over to the teenager, eyes dull and dark.

‘Frankie was one of them,’ Daryl says.

Negan doesn’t respond. His gaze moves back to the wall.

‘Thought you’d want to know,’ Daryl says as he turns on his heels and passes Rick, who’s standing in the corner. They leave the cell and close the door behind them. Daryl lets his hand rest against the wood for a moment.

He listens to how Negan starts to cry.

 

 

The house is finally mostly empty around noon. Daryl is laying on the couch in Rick’s living room. He stares up at the ceiling and doesn’t care that his boots are leaving stains on the nice material. A wariness has settled into his bones again.

Every leader agrees that there is something out there. A new group, a new threat, but they can’t agree on what to do next. Most want to sit tight behind their walls and wait for it all to pass. The war has ended, there has been peace for months and months now, almost stretching into years if it can last the summer.

Rick wants to send groups out there to find whoever did this. Any group that can take out ten people on patrol duty is not a group they can just ignore, or hope that they’re just passing through. Dwight and Beth want justice for their people, but nobody but Rick wants to risk their own to form a search party and find them.

Paul seems eager to go out there, but Merle is cautious and Maggie doesn’t want to risk the rest of her soldiers. Despite Rick’s pleading looks, Daryl didn’t step forward to offer his help either. Of course, Carl did and nobody doubts that the youngest Dixon will turn up when a search party will actually leave, but he refuses to say something now.

Oceanside won’t help. Ezekiel wants his people to stay safe.

It isn’t Mason’s fight.

Daryl closes his eyes. He can hear Maggie, Merle, Rick and Michonne argue somewhere upstairs. For now, they’ve decided that they’re doubling the patrols, groups of ten only, and every watchtower will be manned at all communities. It’s as far as Maggie will go, but Rick doesn’t think it’s enough. He hates to sit and wait for those people to find them next.

There’s a soft knock on the door.

Daryl leans up on his elbows and smiles when Taiwo pokes his head in.

‘Oh – hey, there you are,’ he closes the door behind him and walks over, sits on the edge of the couch next to Daryl’s hip. ‘Mason told us what happened. That’s fucked up.’

‘Yeah. It really is.’

‘Sorry you had to see it.’

Daryl thinks about snapping that he’s seen much worse but swallows the words. ‘Thank you.’

Taiwo nods and gestures to the door. ‘Jesus said I could come see you.’

A smirk plays around Daryl’s lips. ‘You’re not avoiding him no more? Don’t think I haven’t noticed.’

A guilty little laugh escapes his boyfriend. ‘Well, I was – yeah. It’s hard to keep that up when he actually goes out of his way to find you, seemed rude to ignore him.’ The smile fades as he looks up at Daryl. ‘He’s worried about you. Said it was some gruesome shit you saw.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Okay then.’ Taiwo cleans his fingernails and raises an eyebrow when he hears Merle roar something upstairs.

Daryl closes his eyes and sighs, ‘they’ve been at it for hours.’

‘Do you want to go outside?’

‘No.’

‘Okay. Oh! Then I have the perfect gift for you!’ Taiwo jumps up and walks over to the stereo that’s next to the television. It hasn’t been used since the last time there was a party at Alexandria, almost two years ago now, but it was one of the first things Taiwo noticed when he first came over to Rick’s house. ‘I didn’t really get it,’ he says. ‘I thought people had heard that I liked music and wanted to give me a cd, right? Happens all the time back home – people find their favorite ones from before and give them to me, but he said it was for you. Didn’t understand why he would give it to me then.’

Daryl frowns. ‘Maybe he thought you would pass it on?’

‘Probably,’ Taiwo murmurs as he puts the stereo on and the CD in.

‘What CD is it? Any good?’

‘I haven’t listened to it yet. There’s only one song on it though. He said it was your favorite.’

The song starts playing.

Daryl freezes.

Taiwo listens to it and frowns. ‘What the fuck is this shit? This doesn’t sound like something you’d like at all.’ He looks back, ‘do you – hey, are you okay?’

‘Turn it off.’

Taiwo laughs. ‘It’s not _that_ bad. Kinda catchy.’

‘Turn it off right now.’

Taiwo turns it off. ‘What’s wrong? You look all – Daryl, what’s going on?’

Daryl sits up and adjusts his baseball cap. ‘Who gave it to you?’

‘I don’t know, some guy. Brownish hair, about Merle’s size, you know? He misses a couple of fingers on his right – hey!’

Daryl pushes himself off the couch, yanks the door open and walks out. He ignores Taiwo, who follows him and keeps asking questions, pulls his hand free when his boyfriend tries to grab it and then starts running.

It’s not hard to find Evan. He’s been assigned to work in the stable while he’s here but he’s sitting next to them when Daryl arrives. As soon as he spots the teenager, he starts to laugh and gets up. He’s surrounded by his friends and doesn’t seem to have a care in the world.

‘Hey little prince! Did he give you the music? It’s your favorite song!’

Daryl doesn’t stop running, not until he’s close enough. He uses his momentum to jump up and kick the guy’s chest so hard that he falls down with a scream. The man’s not a fighter. All his instincts are wrong. Daryl’s vision goes white with anger. He plants a knee on the man’s sternum and just hits, hits, hits, _hits_ him until someone grabs his arm and pulls him back.

‘Daryl – what the hell,’ Taiwo pants. ‘You’ll fucking kill him!’

Daryl twists out of his grip and pushes him away, his hand seeking out the man’s throat and squeezing it shut. ‘Life’s but a treat, huh?’ he growls, ‘right here on easy street.’

‘Daryl!’ Taiwo grabs his shoulder and hauls him off the man.

Evan coughs and tries to crawl away – not getting very far. His friends just watch, most of them shocked, though one runs off – probably to go get help.

Taiwo’s fingers dig into his shirt. ‘What the hell, man?’

There’s blood on his knuckles. Warm, but cooling fast.

Daryl shivers and weakly shoves Taiwo away again. He stumbles back, looks at Evan who’s bleeding on the ground, turns on his heels and runs.

 

 

Merle doesn’t seem surprised to find his brother in his room that evening. He walks to the bathroom, dampens a cloth and then kneels down in front of his little brother to clean his knuckles. The blood disappears.

‘Muscles is mighty worried about you. Started talking about a search party.’

Daryl doesn’t answer.

‘Need to give me your knife?’

‘No.’

Merle nods. He throws the dirty cloth into a corner and stands up.

‘Can I stay here tonight?’

‘No.’

Daryl looks up at his brother.

‘He’s worried sick, man. Don’t have to tell him nothing about all of that, but don’t leave him hanging. You wanna come back here after that? Sure, you can sleep here, but you can’t _hide_ here.’

Daryl gets up. ‘This some round-about way of you approvin’ of my boyfriend?’

Merle scoffs. ‘Have you seen yourself skippin’ ‘round town since ya met him? Approved a long goddamn time ago, I ain’t seen you this happy in a long time, man. Don’t fuck it up by pushing him away – us Dixon’s got a rep for that.’

‘Look at you givin’ me relationship advice.’

‘Maggie told me to say that.’

Daryl laughs and shakes his head. He’s surprised when Merle draws him into a tight hug.

‘I love you,’ Merle mutters softly. ‘You know that, right?’

‘Yeah.’

Merle squeezes him so hard it hurts, ‘gotta say it back, man!’

‘I love you!’ Daryl laughs. ‘Ouch, _goddamn_.’

 

 

Three days later, Taiwo looks nervous as he stands in front of Daryl. It’s early in the morning and everyone from Washington is leaving. The huge caravan is already moving, everyone has said their goodbye’s and there are people standing on the walls to wave at their new friends. Amaka, Felix, Hakeem and Vera are waiting just outside of the gate, nervously checking on how far their group is now.

‘Hurry it up, loser!’ Felix shouts when the last cart disappears into the forest.

‘Sorry I can’t stay,’ Taiwo says again. ‘I really wanted to.’

‘I know. I’ll get everyone settled at Hilltop and come see you soon. It’s fine.’

Mason has forbidden him to go with Daryl to Hilltop. He needs all his capable soldiers on the way back now that there’s something lurking in the shadows.

‘Okay.’ Taiwo glances over his shoulder. ‘I got to go. I’m sorry. Thanks for… everything.’

‘You, too.’

‘Right, so…’ Taiwo takes a couple of steps backwards but then stops and jumps forward again, claiming a quick kiss.

Merle wolf-whistles.

‘Ignore him,’ Daryl grins.

‘Yeah. Yeah. I… I just wanted to…’ Taiwo winces. ‘Well – I love you.’

‘Same.’

Taiwo’s eyes grow big. ‘That is what you – you asshole!’ He stomps Daryl’s shoulder, who’s laughing. ‘ _That’s_ what it means? You totally said it first! You did! You said it first.’

‘I totally did,’ Daryl agrees as he ropes his boyfriend in for another tight hug. ‘Now go, I’ll see you soon. Stay safe. Stay together.’

‘You too.’ Taiwo shoots him one last shy smile before turning on his heels and running towards his friends.

Daryl watches until the gates close.

 

 

 

Hilltop Colony feels oddly deserted after attending the harvest fair at Alexandria.

Daryl sits on the balustrade of his balcony with the French doors wide open behind him, sketchbook in his lap, as he marvels at how the week has flown by. His backpack is filled with stuff bought from vendors, little nick-knacks, new pencils, small tubes of paint, a new leather belt and plenty of toys for Hershel. It had been a pain to make the vendors accept his trade, sometimes refusing to be paid for their services by the youngest Dixon from all the stories, or their little prince, but he’d managed with most.

It had helped that everyone already knew him. He’s a familiar face in every community, either holed up in his art building or driving farmhands insane with his devil-horse, sleeping on Cyndie’s floor or causing mayhem with either Carl or Taiwo at his side. Sometimes both.

He guesses Michonne, Rosita, Tara, Rick and Merle had more awe-struck fans gaping at them. They don’t visit many other communities. Tara only showing her face in the Kingdom when she has to and never staying at Oceanside long. Rosita hasn’t been back at all since her stay after the war. She’s in charge of the bullet production in a small factory just outside of Alexandria, ruling that part of the world with an iron fist.

Daryl enjoys the cool breeze and lets his pencil dance over the page, filling in faint sketches he’d made during the week. Rick and Michonne lifting their glasses at the high table. Carl without his bandages but with the sunglasses. Merle with little Hershel sitting on his big shoulder, standing guard together. Paul and Maggie asleep on the couch. Dante giving Khamsin a treat. Morgan practicing his poses with Henry secretly copying him in the distance. Felix and Hakeem at the creek. Taiwo sitting on the porch with Beth. Amaka braiding Judith’s blonde hair. Ezekiel and Aaron walking along the painted wall together, filling in where they’re missing pieces of the world’s history.

Daryl smiles. It’s getting hard to see the pages now that it’s getting dark. The light of his candle isn’t strong enough to reach him outside.

He puts the pencil down. His leg swings back and forth.

Voices suddenly rise up from the walls. Guards start to huddle together, waving each other over and pointing at something in the forest. A soft murmur, then an enquiring shout, a yell, a scream.

When Daryl looks up in alarm, he sees how the first flaming arrows sail over the wall to land on Hilltop Colony.

 

 


	48. The cemetery

 

* * *

 

 

 

The sketchbook tumbles to the floor. Fallen leaves still gathered on the balcony will smudge the pages. Dirty streaks staining the faces of his friends. Daryl’s boot lands on the spine as he takes a step back towards the French doors behind him. Hands shake as he reaches for the metal handle blindly, eyes still on the dark sky.

Fires are erupting all over the colony. Guards run along the wall to try to figure out what is going on while others ring the bells to alert everyone. Some slide down the poles to get to the stables. The roof is on fire. The horses are screaming. Everyone seems to just run around, a couple of people grab a bucket but nobody forms a line.

Daryl’s gaze snaps to Khamsin, who is out in the fields, screaming, bucking and prancing in a panic but safe from harm for now. His heart is beating inside his ears, the sound almost deafening, but it quiets when the door of Paul’s trailer bursts open and the scout jumps out.

A line is formed within seconds, Paul pushing people in place to pass buckets from the well to the fires. Dante comes running too, disappearing into the dark and smoke of the burning barn to open the boxes. Horses come out, crazed with fear. People have to jump out of their way as they gallop to safety.

Paul turns on his heels and looks up at the house.

Daryl’s kicked into action. ‘I got them’, he shouts before turning around. He almost slips because of the sudden momentum, his feet sliding off the notebook, but then he finds some grip and bursts into his room. The crossbow is slung onto his back before he slides around the corner, onto the hallway.

His fist lands on every closed door on the way to Maggie’s room. ‘Up, up, up!’

Maggie is already up. She’s strapping her gun belt on before zipping her jacket up, one eye on Hershel, who is crying in his crib. ‘Grab his bag,’ she says curtly. ‘What’s going on?’

Daryl throws the doors of the closet open and grabs the duffel bag from the bottom shelf. ‘Fire arrows, ‘s all I know. Paul’s onto it. Didn’t see nobody scale the walls or nothing. Didn’t see a second wave neither.’ He throws the bag over his shoulder and walks over to the crib. ‘What’s up, baby bro. I know, I know.’ He lifts the boy to his hip, ‘I got you, mom’s right there, see? Ready?’

‘Let’s go.’

The drills have been mandatory for months now. One has been held every thirty days by Maggie’s orders. At first everyone had understood, the war still so fresh in their minds, but later, people had started to complain. That it was a hassle, unnecessary in times of peace, people lifted from their beds in the middle of winter, stumbling out into the cold, the alarms triggering panic attacks with survivors, minds flashing back to everything that had happened to them. Maggie stuck to it.

Nobody got lazy, and it shows now.

Guards are running down the stairs to get to their posts. Weapons are handed out by the door, spears distributed, the few guns they have are passed to their most skilled marksmen. Maggie doesn’t need to tell Kal anything, he just organizes their soldiers into groups and sends them on their way to the wall. She puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes before making her way to one of the tunnels at the back, near the wall.

More men and women come running over, holding the hands of children and scared-looking teenagers. Some of the kids are crying and Hershel won’t stop either. Daryl keeps him close, murmurs soft nonsense into his ear to try to drown out the screams and shouting around them. His gaze is on the dark sky.

‘Why’s there no second wave?’ he asks. The fires are slowly being extinguished and there’s no fighting going on on the walls. In the pale moonlight, it’s easy to spot Merle and Eduardo standing near the gate with their binoculars.

Maggie opens the hatch. ‘I don’t know. We’ll figure it out.’

‘If they ain’t coming in here, they could be out there,’ Daryl says. ‘We should stay here and-‘

‘We’re sticking to the plan. Go.’

Daryl frowns, ‘what? No, _you’re_ taking Kiss and gettin’ out of here! I’ll stay-‘

‘Dare, please,’ Maggie says as the first people lower themselves into the tunnel. The drills have made the tunnel system less scary for the youngest kids. They no longer hesitate when told to jump down after their guardians, or parents, thrusting their siblings to catch them and hold their hand until they’re on the other side. ‘Get him out. Get yourself out. And get them all to safety.’

‘We could be safe right here, they’re not jumping the wall- something is-‘

Her hand lands on his shoulder. She squeezes hard while pulling out her gun with her free hand. ‘Daryl. Please. Take your brother.’

Daryl looks at her. He hitches Hershel higher onto his hip and nods. ‘Nothing happens to him. I promise.’

The hand moves to his cheek. The one with the gun as well. Metal pressed against his skin, cold and biting, her hand warm. She kisses his forehead, the touch lingering for a second longer than usual. ‘I love you,’ she says before kissing her youngest son, too. ‘Now go.’

Daryl watches how she runs towards the wall and starts to climb up one of the ladders to get to Merle. The oldest Dixon is now peering into the night with a sniper rifle. He’s talking to Eduardo and Kal, who has joined them, and turns to Maggie when she comes running up.

‘Go, go, go,’ Daryl says while he shoos the last people into the tunnel. The other tunnels are already closed up again, anyone who can’t fight has fled the colony in record time. He lowers himself and Hershel into the darkness, nudging the door closed before hastily walking towards the other side. The route is familiar enough. He has used the tunnel several times over the past winter to sneak out, mostly to get away from people who wanted either Maggie or Paul to address a situation. The division of land, the number of scouting parties, stuff they might need. Daryl doesn’t understand how they’d been able to bear it all winter, patiently listening to complaints and requests alike, while he thought he’d murder the next person who’d ask him to pass something along to Maggie.

A woman holds the hatch open on the other side. It’s still dark, but at least he’s got the moonlight now. People are huddled around him, elderly, the young, all dressed in their sleeping clothes. Most are wearing shoes, one man carries a boy who’s lost one in the chaos, and the children have blankets wrapped around them.

‘Okay, Simon and Wendy, up front,’ Daryl orders when everyone keeps looking at him expectantly. ‘Children in the middle – hurry it up, folks. Get to the safe house.’

‘We’ll be safe there?’ a girl asks as she shivers and tugs the blanket around her.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Daryl pushes her forwards. ‘Get.’

Simon runs back to grab her hand. It’s a teenager, barely older than Daryl himself, though his mother had managed to keep him away from the war. He’s eager to prove himself and has asked Kal to take him on as a scout every day for the past two months. No better time to prove himself, Daryl thinks as he scans the woods surrounding him.

The safe house isn’t too far away, but well hidden. Only people from Hilltop Colony knows it’s there, and when he’d discovered it at the beginning of winter, only Paul had been there before him. The rest of the guards had always walked right past it, dismissing it as just an overgrown part of the forest right up against a rock formation. Nobody had known there was a house under all that green.

‘Keep up,’ Daryl murmurs as he urges an older man to hurry. The ground is uneven but the little girl from earlier comes bounding over so the man has her shoulder to lean on whenever he stumbles. ‘Good girl,’ Daryl praises.

A woman herding two other children shoots him a concerned look. ‘I can take Hershel.’

‘I got him.’

‘If something happens, we need you-‘

‘His bag.’ He holds it out to her. ‘Please, if you could-, thanks. I got him, he’ll start hollering if anyone else takes him now. Hurry, hurry,’ he whispers as he lets himself fall back to keep an eye on the older people who are straggling.

When the last one passes, he stops and looks back at where Hilltop Colony is. The sky above it is orange but slowly turning darker as the fires are put out. No shouting in the air, no guns going off, not a sky; aflame. It’s quiet. The whole world is silent and still. Daryl noses Hershel’s dark hair, lips kissing his scalp over and over while he thinks.

There’s something wrong.

This isn’t an attack.

Shrill screams coming from the group forces his attention back. He dashes forward and sees that a walker has grabbed hold of a woman’s foot. The walker is weak, crawling towards her at a snail’s pace and every adult carries a knife now. Even though it made the woman trip, there’s no immediate danger now that a man steps forward and draws his knife. It’s clumsy. He hesitates, doesn’t drive it in with all of his strength which makes it messy. If it had been quiet, they would have been able to hear the skull break, Daryl knows. It’s not quiet anymore though.

One of the children, another girl, the one who’d been dying to learn how to ride horses, had been walking alongside the woman. Now she’s screaming on the top of her lungs at the sight of the walker. Before anyone can react, she does what they teach every child to do when they see a walker; _run_.

Daryl watches how she slips past every adult and disappears into the forest.

‘Get them to the house,’ he hisses at Simon, who’s rooted on the spot. _’Wendy_!’

‘Go!’ she answers. A gray-haired woman, almost sixty and with fire in her eyes, a knife in her hands. ‘Go, Daryl!’

He starts running after the girl, feet always steady on the forest ground, even in the dark. For a moment, he curses himself for not handing Hershel to the lady. It won’t be long before he starts crying anyway, being jogged around like this. It wouldn’t have made a difference, and now he’s slowing Daryl down, too.

‘Kristine!’ Daryl hisses as he runs after the girl. He spots her through the trees, sees flashes of her hair and clothing. There’s sweat dripping down Daryl’s neck and back as he tries to keep up with her. They’re getting closer and closer to the edge of the forest, and every step leads them further away from the group he’d promised to protect.

He’s sure they can deal with any stray walkers, but there are people out here.

In a flash, he sees the girl stumble over a tree root and then climb the low, wooden fence that marks the tree line. There are fields rolling on beyond, soft glowing hills before it all disappears into another forest.  Daryl reaches the fence too and freezes.

Kristine is standing out in the open. Hair blowing in the breeze, silver in the moonlight. She’s wearing sturdy boots and her pajama’s, a warm coat that probably belongs to her father. She’s standing perfectly still – frozen.

In the middle of the field, stands a herd. Dozens of walkers – just standing there. Shuffling past each other but staying in a tight formation. It’s nothing like Daryl has ever seen. He’s never seen walkers behave like this. It reminds him of that one lone walker out on the road, on the way to the kingdom. It reminds him of the stories he’d heard about the walkers changing, in Rick’s living room. Guards looking at their feet and avoiding eye contact when telling they’d never seen anything like it, that the walkers were different now, that it started to get on everyone’s nerves how they would sometimes _look_ at you.

Fear crawls up Daryl’s spine. It makes him shiver. There are so many of them. He looks down at Hershel, who’s staring back up at him with Glenn’s eyes. He wants to run, but can’t. ‘Real quiet now,’ Daryl whispers as he pulls the blanket further over Hershel’s head, tucking him in completely to try and smother the little sounds he makes. He holds his breath as he climbs the fence awkwardly, one eye on the herd, one on his little brother.

Silent footsteps on the damp earth as he sneaks towards the little girl.

When she feels his presence behind her, she gasps and wants to whirl around.

‘It’s me,’ Daryl whispers, eyes still on the walkers who don’t seem to notice them. ‘I’m here. Ssh, ssh. Slowly walk backwards. Slowly, _slowly_.’

She looks over her shoulder up at him. There are tears running down her cheeks. She looks horrified as her cheeks heat up and her gaze falls to her own legs. The pajama bottoms are soaked.

‘’s fine,’ Daryl shushes, ‘take my hand and-‘

Hershel starts to cry. A soft whimper and then an ear-piercing wail.

The walkers jerk towards them immediately, stumbling over each other, knocking each other out of the way to get to the noise first.

Daryl dashes forward and grabs Kristine’s hand, yanking her back so hard that it must hurt but she doesn’t protest. He drags her with him. ‘Up and over!’ They climb the fence together. It creaks under their combined weight. Daryl halts for a second, looking back at the walkers. The fence won’t hold them. It’s too old, it was never meant to contain anything, just meant as a border of the land.

They’ll break through.

If Hershel keeps screaming like this, they’ll be led right to the group.

‘Stand with your back against the tree,’ Daryl orders as he pushes the girl up against it. ‘What do you aim for?’

‘The head,’ she answers automatically.

‘Good girl,’ he praises as he grabs his spare knife. He presses it into the palm of her hand and forces her shaking fingers around it. ‘Any come close, you scream for me. I can’t get to you in time? You get it in the head.’

She’s sobbing now but still nods.

‘Good, wipe your tears or you won’t see nothing,’ he shoots her a small smile and then lays Hershel down at her feet. ‘Let him cry – eyes on the woods.’

‘What?’

‘Something happens to me? You take him and you start running again, okay? You find the brightest star in the sky and follow it. Keep running – the sun comes up? You follow that. Repeat it.’

‘Bri-brightest star. The sun.’

‘Yes.’ Daryl grabs his bow and takes out the first walker he sees in the field. Reloading takes too long. He casts his weapon aside and, after a second of hesitation, he draws out his gun. Hershel’s crying can be heard for miles already. It doesn’t matter that the gunshots will draw more walkers. He’s already fucked.

He jumps up and balances on the top of the fence. The wood sags but doesn’t give yet.

The gunshots make Kristine whimper behind him.

He shoots, put in a new clip, and only stops when there are three bullets left.

The walkers keep coming. About fifteen of them.

Daryl takes out both of his knives and twirls them in the palm of his hand before gripping them tightly. A deep breath and he jumps down, looks up at the sky one last time. ‘You with me, right?’ he asks before he starts to run, slashing the first two walkers, ducking under an arm and getting another. Hands claw at his jacket but a kick forces the walker back. One knife sinks into a rotting eye, the other buries itself into the base of a soft skull.

Nails scrape over his back, his breath hitches when teeth come down on his shoulder but the double layer of leather will protect him. He wrenches free but stumbles, falls into the wet grass and automatically rolls away before kicking himself back up like how Paul had taught him.

There are so many of them.

His heart is pounding in his chest. He keeps glancing back at Kristine.

She’s staring at the dark woods, knife held up between folded hands like she’s praying, lips moving and her foot is nudging Hershel, who is still screaming on the ground.

Daryl throws himself against a cluster of four walkers, forcing them apart. One of his knives hits a neck instead of brain when another walker falls against his arm, snarling and hissing. He ducks and kicks, stomps, yanks his arm out of a grip, slashes, stabs, brings his boot down onto a skull with such force that it splinters.

He wants to grab the arm of a walker that’s stumbling past in an attempt to get to Hershel and Kristine, but the arm just tears right off. He falls back, surprised and horrified, lands on his back. It hurts for just a second before adrenaline forces him up.

One glance to the right.

He stops.

The fifteen walkers are dead in the field, but the rest of the herd hasn’t come down on them yet. Daryl watches with amazement as they start to walk away. Twenty, maybe thirty of them – just walking away from all the noise and scents.

Daryl pants and stands up.

Two of the walkers, far on the other side of the field now, turn around. They stand there for a moment.

Daryl feels sick.

They’re _watching_ him. One even steps forward, towards him, but the other grabs their arm to hold them back. Another moment of silence, Daryl watching them, and them looking right back at him, before-

‘ _Daryl_!’

The walker heading for the fence tumbled over and is now stumbling towards Kristine, who’s kneeling next to Hershel – one hand folded over the baby’s mouth as she tries to get him to quiet down. It only makes him scream louder.

Daryl takes his gun and shoots the walker. Then he runs back to them, vaulting the fence and running over to her, batting her hand away from his brother before hugging her tightly. ‘You did so good. So, so good. You’re safe. I got you.’

‘The baby, the- the baby,’ she sobs. The knife falls into the grass as she sinks to her knees and cries.

‘He’s fine,’ Daryl says. He scoops Hershel up off the ground, zips his jacket open and holds the boy against his heated chest. ‘He’s good, hush baby bro. Hey, Kiss,’ he says with a breath of laughter when Hershel blinks up at him. ‘Yeah that’s right – Hi!’ He kisses his head and holds him close before looking back at the field.

Fifteen walkers dead. The others – gone.

He takes the knife and puts his bow back onto his back. Gun into the holster. ‘Come on,’ He tugs Kristine to her feet and then scoops her up as well, letting her sob onto his shoulder. She’s heavy but he manages. ‘I’m so proud of you,’ he tells her. ‘You kept Hershel safe. Kept yourself safe.’

‘I didn’t do anything!’ comes the bitter reply between sobs.

‘You did everything right – ran when you needed to, listened to me, didn’t leave my ass there all alone, huh? Couldn’t have done it without you, girl.’

Her fingers dig into his neck to hug him tightly. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says, the words barely audible.

‘For what? You didn’t do nothing wrong.’

‘Had – I…’ she takes a deep breath and buries her face into his neck so she won’t have to look at him. ‘Had an acci-accid-‘

‘Had an accident, huh? Yeah, I know. All good, we’ll get you cleaned up once we get to the safe house – or back home. That’s no reason to be upset.’ He needs to steer left to avoid a walker coming out of the darkness, but it’s slow. ‘You – er,’ he hops over a set of tree trunks, ‘you had that riding lesson with Dante yesterday, right? I saw you out there, tell me about it. In my ear, in my ear,’ he says when she leans back with big, wet eyes and opens her mouth. ‘Real softly.’

She cups her hands around his ear and starts whispering the story.

He can’t understand a word of it, his own mind is racing and he’s too jittery to decipher the slurred and whispered words but he makes encouraging noises every time she stops. The sight of the safe-house makes his heart lighter but he can’t shake the eerie feeling lingering in his bones. Sweat is going cold on his body. His knees feel weak, his tongue almost too big for his mouth as he breathes through his nose to keep the nausea down.

The door bursts open and one of the women comes running towards him. Blond hair a tangled mess, wearing only socks, eyes bloodshot from crying. ‘Kristine!’ she pants as she reaches the youngest Dixon. ‘Thank you, Daryl. Oh my god, thank you.’ Her hand cups the back of Hershel’s head for a moment, ‘are you all okay? We signaled Alexandria and the Kingdom. What happened?’

Daryl transfers the girl to her and wraps both his arms around his little brother, who’s now quiet. One last glance over his shoulder but the woods are silent and still. ‘Let’s get inside.’

 

 

Paul, Kal, Eduardo and Dante are silent shadows who move through the woods. Knives in their hands, feet steady on the uneven floor. Kal is the only one who’s holding a spear instead, but it functions as his bo. A tap from his is more lethal than Morgan’s would be though.

Maggie runs ahead of them.

Daryl sits next to the mostly-hidden entrance and cleans his fingernails with his hunting knife. He doesn’t need to look to know it’s them, but he forces his gaze up when Maggie comes to a halt just a couple of steps in front of him. Her face pale, eyes dark and empty.

‘Everything’s fine,’ Daryl says. ‘He’s inside.’

She looks confused but moves past him, fingertips lingering on the black baseball cap for a mere moment. Daryl ducks away from the touch. Paul’s gaze burns but the Dixon sets his jaw stubbornly and doesn’t look up again.

Minutes later, people start to stream out of the house. Most children are being carried. Dawn is breaking – it’s been a long night of mostly waiting. The adults are talking among themselves, hushes whispers and wild theories about the attack that never really came.

‘Merle’s helping secure the barn,’ Kal tells Daryl. ‘The fire did a lot of damage, we were afraid it would collapse. He has a good eye for that – construction.’

‘Right.’ He’s not sure why that makes him angry. The sound of the gunshots would have travelled to Hilltop, he’s sure of it. He’s also sure that Merle would have been able to tell that it was his gun, specifically. He loves to boast about that skill. Rick’s revolver, Carl’s smaller replica, Daryl’s military-grade handgun. The sounds they make are all easy to recognize.

‘Okay,’ Kal says. ‘Just so you know he’s safe.’

‘Thanks.’ Daryl digs around in the pockets of his jacket and lights a cigarette. He watches how Dante and Eduardo start to lead the people back to Hilltop Colony.

Some adults stop next to Daryl. They thank him.

Daryl doesn’t answer. The cigarette sits in the corner of his mouth, and he cleans his fingernails over and over again. When the last couple of people leave, he relaxes slightly. His muscles tense up again when Maggie appears beside him.

‘Stand up,’ she says.

He gets up and puts his knife away.

‘Priscilla told me what happened.’

Daryl closes his eyes. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispers.

‘Why?’

The hair on his arms rises. Guilt and sadness make him tear up. He bites on his tongue to make it stop, but it doesn’t help. ‘I shouldn’t have – I should have given him to someone. I thought I could just grab the girl before she were gone too far but she’s was too fast and – I’m so _sorry_.’

‘Why didn’t you give him to someone else?’

Daryl shrugs and scowls at his boots. ‘You know what he’s like when he gets picked up by someone else. If it ain’t you, me, Merle or Beth – they’re no good to him. I didn’t want to bring a herd down on us all if he decided to have none of it.’ He wipes a tear away angrily. ‘He threw a fit anyway, _while we were looking at a goddamn herd_.’

‘You kept him safe, right?’

‘Almost got him killed.’

‘No, you didn’t. You made a decision and you kept your brother and that little girl safe.’

‘Next time I’ll make a decision and we’ll be burning him on a goddamn pyre back home.’

Maggie’s breath catches.

Daryl looks up automatically, stepping closer and reaching out to touch her elbow. ‘No – I’m sorry, I’m – I shouldn’t have said that.’

Maggie seems to force her tears down. She cups Daryl’s cheek and brings him close. ‘You kept him _safe_. Not another word about it.’

Relief causes Daryl to smile. ‘Okay,’ he says softly. ‘Yeah.’

 

 

Kal paces up and down the room and Merle peels an apple. Paul is leaning against the wall, Eduardo seems to half-asleep in one of the chairs and Maggie is standing in front of the window. The sun is up. The whole community seems to be moving slower today. Everyone is sleep-deprived after the long night and the fear of another attack causes them to be even more on edge. People bicker over breakfast and children nag and complain about everything they can think of.

‘This doesn’t make any sense,’ Paul says. ‘Who shoots one round of fire arrows over a wall and then leaves?’

‘Maybe they wanted to know what we’d do,’ Kal offers. ‘Run out there, guns a blazing? Sit and wait? Maybe they even know about the tunnels and safe houses – maybe that’s what they’re after, to see if we’re really using them and who will be there next time.’

‘Who digs tunnels if they ain’t gonna use them?’ Merle asks with a frown. ‘’course we’re gonna use them. That’s fucking stupid, you dumb-ass beaner.’

‘He ain’t even Mexican,’ Daryl cuts in.

‘That weren’t quite the point of my eulogy, monster.’

‘That wasn’t even a eulogy,’ Paul sighs as he closes his eyes and lets his head hit the wall behind him.

‘Shut up, you stupid faggot.’

One eye opens again.

Merle looks down at his apple again. ‘Sorry,’ he mutters. ‘Didn’t mean nothing with it. Honest.’

Maggie turns around. ‘Can we focus? Let’s assume they – whoever _they_ are, did it to find out how we would react. They know about the tunnels. They know we hide behind our walls. If they were watching, why didn’t they just take out one safe house?’

‘Maybe they tried but they ran into my baby brother,’ Merle grins. He looks proud. ‘A herd, man? On your own?’

Daryl shakes his head. ‘No – a part of it. They were just standing in the field and Hershel started crying so-‘

‘They saw monster at work and changed their damn minds,’ Merle says as he leans back in his seat and plants his boots on the table, chewing on a piece of his apple loudly. ‘Case closed. Next time, we’re throwing him over the damn wall to scare them shitless.’

Paul pushes himself away from the wall. ‘Tell me what you saw, Daryl. Don’t leave anything out.’

‘He just did, he saw a herd and fucked them up! What more do you need to know?’

‘Can you just shut up for a minute?’ Paul bites back at Merle. He turns to Daryl again. ‘Tell me everything.’

Daryl swings his legs and starts to tell the story. The walker on the ground, grabbing the woman’s ankle. The girl running. The herd in the field. How some wandered over while others were led away by something else. It’s easy to tell it to Paul, because he seems to be actually listening. Brow furrowed, a hand stroking his beard, eyes never leaving the youngest Dixon’s face.

Behind him, Merle rolls his eyes.

‘They were _looking_ at me,’ Daryl says.

‘Oh Jesus Christ,’ Merle sighs.

Paul looks back at him. ‘You don’t believe him?’

‘He’s a kid! He got scared and saw things that weren’t there!’

‘I didn’t imagine it!’

‘So he’s just a stupid scared kid when it’s convenient for you, but otherwise he’s your badass little brother, right? I thought Dixon’s were more loyal than that. Blood, right?’

Merle slowly gets up. ‘Let me tell you something about _blood_ , Rovia. I know him better than you ever will. I’m trying to protect him, but have it your way; agree how that ain’t the first time we’ve heard those stories. Hmm. We ain’t ever found out who put those Saviors on pikes, no prints – just walker’s footsteps, ain’t that right? Yeah. Go ahead, you tell him that walkers are fucking _evolving_. See, one of two things is gonna happen now,’ Merle says with a dangerous and low voice. ‘He’s either gonna go hide under his bed, or he’s gonna want to get to the fucking bottom of this – and how do we do that, Paul?’

Paul closes his eyes for just a moment. ‘By going out there.’

‘That’s right. He’s worth ten of all y’all, but that don’t mean I want him out there when this bullshit is happening. So yeah – I wanted him-‘

‘What do you mean – they’re evolving?’ Daryl cuts in.

‘They’re not – they’re _dead_ ,’ Paul says.

‘It’s just a theory,’ Eduardo answers. ‘Some groups are reacting differently to noise and sounds, some don’t react at all. Maybe they’re learning. You need to get them in the brain, yeah? So the brain is still functioning, at least some parts of it. Other parts might be… regenerating or something – I don’t know. Washington has heard them talk to each other.’

Paul pinches the bridge of his nose. ‘ _Amaka_ said she _thought_ she heard them whisper. It could have been anything!’

‘She wouldn’t lie about that,’ Daryl says. ‘If she said she heard it, she heard it.’

Paul makes a throw-away gesture. ‘It was dark. She got separated from Taiwo – she was probably scared, it could-‘

‘Oh, so now _she’s_ the scared little kid? She’s one of Washington’s best soldiers!’

‘Enough,’ Maggie says. She’s looking at Merle, who’s glaring back.

He shakes his head.

Maggie ignores him. ‘Groups of five. Spread out. We need to find out what’s going on. Dare…’ she swallows and works her jaw, ‘tell the stable hands to get the horses ready.’ She hugs herself, ‘tell Dante to saddle Khamsin.’

 

 

‘You might be the best soldier Hilltop has – ey, one of the best, huh? Daryl Dixon of Alexandria,’ Hank leers as he leans on his saddle and looks at the youngest Dixon, who is riding next to him, ‘but I was training to be special forces. Was gonna be a green beret, man! Sure was.’

‘You can’t even tie your own damn shoes now, what the hell did they teach you with the special forces?’

Hank sits up. ‘Well, I wasn’t really _in_ the special forces, but-‘

‘You fucking loser,’ Quinten laughs as he rides past them. ‘Why’re you telling everyone you were in special forces then?’

‘I was training _to be_! I was training to be special forces,’ Hank says.

‘Running laps around your block?’ Quinten guesses.

‘Had to be fast, man, ‘course I was training!’

Quinten sniggers and looks at Peter. ‘He was one of those pieces of shit, always bragging about being in the goddamn army but never serving.’

‘But I was going to be!’

Daryl laughs under his breath and shakes his head. The sun has set – they’ve been out all day but haven’t found a single clue to what’s going on. Every walker they’ve encountered was just a lone one, stumbling along like they always have. No herds. No walkers that were able to look at anyone. Radio traffic informed them that every other squad has been unlucky today. They’re all returning home empty handed and with still the same questions.

‘Ey Dixon, you and Jesus are pretty close. Was he army? Marines? Bet he was navy, right? He never tells us anything, but that man can fucking _fight_.’

‘It’s bad enough we’ve got one guy on our squad crushing hard on him, don’t you start, too,’ Quinten laughs.

‘Got a fucking problem with that?’ Daryl asks, eyes small and dark.

‘What? No.’

‘Sounded like it.’

‘Oh,’ Quinten turns in his saddle to look at Daryl, ‘sorry, man. I really don’t though – my old college roommate, from before? He was gay, too.’

Daryl rolls his eyes. ‘Whatever. Did you radio Paul to tell him that he’s fucking hot?’

Quinten balks, ‘ _what_?’

‘Did you radio Paul to tell him to meet us at the Southside of the cemetery?’ Daryl asks, the words drawn out like Quinten’s slow.

‘Err… yeah,’ he answers, almost cautiously. ‘He’ll be there.’

‘Great,’ Daryl beams.

Next to him, Hank shakes his head and laughs. ‘You’re such an asshole, junior.’

The darkness swallows Daryl’s grin. It becomes harder and harder to see the others riding ahead of them, they had to slow down earlier so none of the horses would misstep. Khamsin is calm after the long day. She even doesn’t mind to be the last in the group, though usually she’ll throw a fit about it. Daryl leans down to stroke her neck. Triangle ears perk up and swivel back, focusing on him for just a second.

A dense fog is making everything more difficult now. Daryl had wanted to beat the weather home, returning early just to be on the safe side, but the rest of the guys had wanted to push further out. It’s their first real assignment – most of them have only recently started training with Kal and Merle, though Dave, who is leading the group, is a veteran of the war.

When they turn left, Daryl frowns and makes Khamsin jump ahead and streak past the other horses. Light and fast as ever, a bit cocky in the way she cuts them off. ‘Dave! What’re you doing?’

‘We’re cutting through the cemetery. It’s faster. Fog might not seem like much,’ the man says, ‘but we’ll be soaked in ten minutes. I want to get home.’

‘The gate on the other side is locked.’

‘It’s just stuck,’ Dave counters. ‘Five guys against an iron gate? I think we’ll manage.’ He glances at the teenager, ‘even without your help.’ He clacks his tongue and lets his horse walk through the gates of the cemetery.

Daryl grits his teeth but follows him anyway.

The whole cemetery in enclosed. There’s a high iron fence on all sides, with the main entrance the only one that’s open. Daryl has been here many times before, just wandering around while talking to Shane or cutting through it while gathering herbs and medicinal plants for Alex. He has always just climbed the back fence. It’s not hard to do.

He has never actually checked whether the south gate was locked, or just stuck. He’d never bothered to try more than push against it a couple of times before throwing his backpack over and starting to climb. Maybe Dave is right and they can push it open after all.

The fog makes it hard to see much further ahead, but the night is quiet and it doesn’t take long for Daryl to hear the all-too familiar sounds of walkers nearby. Groaning, growling, sluggish footsteps on wet earth.

Daryl takes his knife out and doesn’t need to tell the others to do the same. Khamsin makes a nervous side-step but then soldiers on, following the more experienced horse of Dave. On their right, Quinten stabs a walker in the head by the sound of it.

‘We should go back,’ Daryl hisses. ‘If we get stuck on the other side-‘

‘We’re already on the other side,’ Dave answers, ‘the gate is right there! We’ll jump down, you keep an eye on the walkers. In ‘nd out in no time. Let me just-‘ he gets ready to ride past a walker and stab it in the head.

The walker ducks under the blade.

Daryl’s heart misses a beat as he watches how the walker whirls around.

The shine of a sword.

Dave almost tumbling off his horse and screaming.

Khamsin jumping forward, frightened by the sound, by the walker-not-walker suddenly in front of her, by Daryl who yanks at the reins and starts to scream, scream, _scream_ when he sees the sword jabbing forward and-

A sound that will haunt him until the day he dies.

Khamsin screaming in pain and terror.

That sudden feeling of weightlessness before they both go crashing down. Daryl’s foot locked in the stirrups, one slipping free as his shoulder hits the ground. He’s too late with breaking his own fall, smack against the ground, hits his head, feels the whole world go in and out of existence before he starts to get his bearings again.

That sound, that sound, that sound – Khamsin shrieking and trashing, trying to get her feet back under her again to get out of here but she can’t manage.

Daryl pulls his other foot free and slides off her, hoping the loss of his weight might do the trick but the horse just kicks and screams. Even in the dark, he can see the massive wound on her chest. The sword sliced her open, the skin ripped apart, chest to shoulder and then her belly where it fades into blood, blood, blood.

‘No,’ Daryl whispers as he scrambles to get back up. His back hurts, his shoulder, his legs, his head, but none of it matters. His legs won’t hold him, he crawls over to his horse, fingers grabbing hold of her mane in desperation, ‘no, no, _no_!’

‘ _Daryl_!’

The walker comes over. Long, determined strides, the sword still in his hand. It’s dripping with blood.

Daryl can only stare at the creature. Dazed by Khamsin’s shrieking, by the fact that nothing matters other than that his horse is hurt and-

Dave throws himself against the walker, forcing it to stumble away from Daryl and Khamsin. The sword clashes against the knife seconds later. They step apart and then go at it again, but Dave has one advantage he immediately utilizes. A knife is quicker. Lighter. Faster. Before the man has lifted his sword, Dave has buried the knife into his right eye.

‘What the hell is going on,’ Hank breathes. He has jumped down from his horse and is holding onto the reins tightly. ‘Quinten went after Pete – his horse went crazy because of the blood. What-‘

He stops mid-sentence. Mouth open. Eyes blinking once, twice. A strangled moan.

Dave roars his name.

Daryl watches in horror as the man falls to his knees first and then into the grass. Dead.

A man, a walker is standing behind him. A knife now covered with blood.

Another walker joins him. Another knife, still clean.

Daryl’s hands tremble as he gets to his feet. He takes his hunting knife out.

‘You are where you don’t belong,’ one of the walkers whispers.

The words barely register. Daryl can barely even hear them over the agonizing noise Khamsin makes on the ground. Still twisting, kicking, still crazed by the pain. He doesn’t think when he starts to run, when he clears his mind and stops projecting like Paul always tells him to. A swift kick to the hand with the knife, a jab that would make Rosita proud with his closed fist, hitting a neck and causing the walker to choke. He quickly steps back to miss the knife coming his way, blocks a punch with his arm. His own knife cuts through the fog.

The neck.

The man splutters, drops the knife, sinks to his knees. Hands going to the open wound on his neck.

‘ _Daryl_!’

Figures in the fog. One he’d recognize anywhere.

‘Get to Dave,’ Daryl shouts before Paul even reaches him. ‘Help him, he-‘ he watches how Paul veers to the left, uses one of the gravestones to jump up so high that he can deliver a mighty kick to the walker’s head to save Dave.

Daryl doesn’t wait to see the body fall. Doesn’t wait for one of Paul’s knives to end him.

‘Khamsin!’ he screams and runs back to his horse, sliding down into the grass beside her that’s now soaked with her blood. Trembling hands on her trembling coat. He makes hushing noises, pets her neck and then her mane, her nose, forces her to look his way. ‘I’m here, girl. You’re good, you’re good, I’m right here. Hey,’ he says though his tears, ‘hey, sweet girl. You’re going to be fine. Yeah. Just fine. Ssh, ssh, hush hush.’

Paul lands on his knees beside the teenager. He looks at the massive wound and his shoulders slump.

‘We need to get her to Hilltop,’ Daryl says. ‘We need – someone needs to help her. Alex – or – or, I don’t know, it’s nothing. She’s fine. You’re fine, baby girl. We’re going to be fine. Don’t be scared.’

‘Daryl,’ Paul says. ‘We can’t help her anymore. The wound, it’s – nobody can help her.’

‘Yeah they can, we just need to get her there,’ Daryl says stubbornly as tears fall down his cheeks. ‘Please – please, Paul. I can’t lose her. She’s – please. _Please_.’

‘We can’t help her,’ Paul says. He tries to catch the teenager’s eye. ‘Daryl-‘

‘No, you don’t understand. Tough as nails, huh, girl? We ain’t scared of nothing, you ‘nd me. It’s you and me, come on! Get up, please, _please_ , Khamsin. Don’t give up now.’

‘Daryl. She’s in pain.’

The words leave him reeling.

Khamsin isn’t screaming anymore but she’s looking at him with one eye.

Daryl looks back through his tears. He swallows thickly. ‘There’s nothing nobody can do to help her?’

‘There isn’t.’

‘You promise?’

‘I wouldn’t lie to you.’

‘Do you _promise_?’

‘I promise,’ Paul says softly. He takes his knife out. ‘Please, let me-‘

‘No,’ Daryl hunches over her protectively but then needs to shift back to grab his own knife. He looks at his beloved blade, his beloved horse. He feels sick. ‘Should be somebody who loves you, in the end.’

It takes him longer than it should because he can’t, he can’t, he can’t. Later, he’ll be ashamed of the fact that he closed his eyes to do it. That he wouldn’t even look at her, couldn’t, _couldn’t_ , but that he could feel her body still under his blade. That he couldn’t even take it out, just backed away in horror to curl up in the blood-soaked grass to _scream_.

 

 

 


	49. Chapter 49

 

* * *

 

 

 

There’s blood all over his hands. In the fog and starting darkness - everything is black and gray. Daryl lays in the grass and looks at the strange shadows the liquid creates on his skin. He moves his fingers and feels how the dried parts of the blood crack. A numbness settles into his bones. Cheeks still wet, eyes bloodshot as he stares up at the gray sky.

His mind is oddly empty. No thoughts that stay long enough to penetrate the fog in his mind, just a lingering sense of doom and loneliness. There’s guilt when he thinks about all the times he’s bragged about Khamsin being _his_. The fastest horse, one of most beautiful ones as well, stunning as she galloped through the fields, honoring her own name when blowing through the woods. Fierce, but still young enough to be afraid of an unexpected puddle on the road. Curious, with swiveling ears while pretending not to be interested. Just as stubborn as he is, but always caving to get some love in the end.

Paul slides over to sit at his side, instead of Khamsin’s. He looks sad and ashen when he reaches out to touch the young man’s cheek. ‘Daryl.’

Daryl looks at him.

‘I’m so sorry.’

Daryl closes his eyes. He thinks about all the times he’d saddled Khamsin up during the war, the two of them a well-oiled machine, how the sound of thundering hooves had been the saviors’ worst nightmare when caught out after dark. How they’d stopped by the creek on the way back to get clean, washing the dirt, blood and guts off of them. How she’d always refused to go back into the barn, dancing away and throwing a fit that left him in giggles and Dante in despair.

‘Daryl.’

Behind him, he can hear how Paul’s soldiers are taking care of the walkers that are stumbling around the graveyard. The numbness slowly ignites into rage when he realizes that they don’t have any means of burying Khamsin, or getting her back to Hilltop to burn her body there. Night is falling all around them. There are people here. They don’t have time to go back to the colony to get shovels, to dig a grave deep enough.

They’ll have to leave her here.

With a snarl, he suddenly gets to his feet and runs over to the walker that had killed her. It’s already dead but that doesn’t matter. Daryl straddles the dead body and hits the face, over and over and over.

‘Hey, hey, hey!’ Running footsteps and then hands on his shoulders, a body settling behind him, hands gliding down to his chest, finding his beating heart. The arms trap his. Paul breathes hard against his ear. ‘ _Stop_ , Daryl.’

‘He killed her,’ Daryl says and he hates how his voice breaks. Angry tears blur his vision. ‘He killed her and now some fucking dead bastard is going to… They’ll… They’ll rip her apart like they did with Buttons and –‘

Paul’s hold on him tightens. ‘I know. I know.’

The tension bleeds out of Daryl’s body. The anger remains but it simmers in his bones now, just waiting for another spark. He sits back down on his heels and just stares at the walker beneath him. Now that everything has dulled again, another feeling starts to crawl up his spine with icy fingers.

 ‘Jesus,’ one of the soldier says as he paces around nearby, nervously changing the grip on his spear. ‘We need to go.’

Paul’s touch lingers for a moment but then he stands up and moves over to the soldiers. Huddled together in the semi-darkness with dirty knives and restless horses. It doesn’t take them long to decide.

Hank’s dead body gets hoisted onto the back of a horse.

One man kneels down next to Khamsin and starts to take her saddle off.

Daryl tries not to look when three men have to pull at it to get the straps to shoot free from under her dead weight. How her mouth is carefully opened to remove the bit. He’s glad they’re gentle but he can’t help but feel angry at them anyway.

He forces his gaze back down until they’re done. He stares at the rotting corpse. One of the hits he got in earlier has caused the skin to split on the cheek. Daryl expects to see bone beneath it, dark flesh that has been dead a long time ago, dried out muscles of the jaw, black veins, maggots bursting out at long last. He doesn’t see any of that though.

With a frown, he leans closer. ‘What the fuck?’ His gaze moves to the eyes, still open and there. White and clear. Not bloodshot from the sickness before the turn, not stolen by birds or eaten away by maggots and worms. What’s even weirder is that the skin doesn’t seem to fit entirely. There’s a ridge right around the eye sockets, rotting skin melting into perfectly fine, pale skin.

‘It _talked_ to us!’

Daryl glances over his shoulder.

Paul is standing in front of Dave, who’s running one hand through his shaggy hair and looks on the verge of panic. One step to the left, one to the right, waving his hand at the graveyard, running his mouth all the while.

Paul is speaking to him calmly but it doesn’t seem to work its usual magic.

‘It talked! It moved, it _ducked_! It fought us, Jesus! The walkers – there’s something wrong with the walkers!’

Daryl takes out his lighter and flicks it on. He holds it to the walker’s face. ‘Paul.’

Paul’s attention snaps to him and he walks over. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Hold this,’ Daryl pushes the lighter into his hands and grabs his knife.

‘Daryl, what are you – ‘

Daryl turns the walker’s head until the back is exposed. There’s a seam there. He cuts it open and pulls the skin away.

It’s a guy, not much older than Paul. Short dark hair, a scar on his neck, stubble on his chin.

‘They _wear_ the walker’s skins?’ Paul sounds horrified. He looks at Daryl for a second, eyes wide and scared, and then flicks the lighter off. Darkness between them until their eyes get used to it again. ‘We need to show Maggie – Daryl, I know you’re-‘

‘Let’s go,’ Daryl grunts as he pushes himself off the dead man and gets up. Without a second thought, he stuffs the mask into his backpack, gathers his bow and knives and walks over to Paul’s horse to wait for further instructions.

Paul bows his head for a moment but then looks around. ‘Let’s go!’

The rest of the soldiers guide the horses back towards the North entrance. Khamsin’s saddle has been thrown over Paul’s. The scout grabs the reins of his horse and falls into step beside the teenager. He keeps glancing over out of the corner of his eyes.

When they pass the gate, Daryl can hear walkers stumbling over from the west side. They’re not coming after them, though. The tearing of flesh. The sound of heavy limbs being pushed around. Of organs, still slippery with warm blood, falling out and onto the grass. Of meat and muscles being torn from bones by teeth.

Of walkers, feasting.

Paul reaches out to take Daryl’s hand.

‘I’ll take point,’ the teenager whispers before slipping past the horses and disappearing into the night.

 

 

The curtains are closed and the French doors have been shut. It’s almost dark in the room now, despite it being in the early afternoon. Daryl is sitting at his desk. He bites on the back of his pencil and stares into the distance, eyes not really seeing anything. There are crumpled up pieces of paper on the floor.

A knock on the door. Paul slips inside before Daryl has enough time to snap out of his daze. It doesn’t matter. He doubts anything he would have said would have kept the scout out anyway.

Paul’s approach is almost cautious. ‘What’re you doing?’

Daryl puts the pencil down. He lets the fingernail of his thumb dig into his index finger. ‘I’m sorry I can’t be at the funeral. Know I should be down there, but – the smell, it… Alex says it’s a trigger so… Reminds me of Er- of the war.’ Daryl glances at his friend. ‘I already paid my respects. Told his widow I were real sorry. Am.’ He looks down at his paper. ‘Am real sorry, he was a good man. Funny, ya know? Though he didn’t always mean to be.’

‘Yeah, he was.’ Paul leans against the corner of the desk with his hip. ‘That is not what I asked though. Everyone understands why you’re not there when they burn the body.’

‘Great,’ Daryl mutters. It sounds bitter.

‘What are you doing, Daryl?’

‘Jacking off, wanna help or something?’ the teenager snarls as he gets up and walks over to his bedside table. He grabs a freshly rolled cigarette and lights it, inhaling deeply.

‘Did you sleep last night?’

‘Like a baby.’ He only turns around when he hears how Paul picks up a couple of the crumpled pages. The man folds them back open and reads what’s written there. There’s not much.

Hey Tai, I’m not really sure how to say-

Hi Tai, how are you? I’m fine.

Hey man, what’s up? I hope you got back to Washington okay and-

I don’t know how to start this letter but something happened and I don’t know-

Daryl walks over and grabs the papers, tearing them out of Paul’s hand. ‘Stop sticking your nose in! Good lord, that ain’t yours! Did I say you could read my fucking letters? I don’t fucking think so. Get your paws off of my stuff, man!’

‘You’re right, I’m sorry,’ Paul says as he puts his hands in the pockets of his pants. ‘I shouldn’t have looked. Why do you find it hard to write him?’

‘Because I’m super insecure about our relationship and I don’t think he’s the right person for me after all – that’s what you wanna hear, right?’ Daryl takes a drag and blows the smoke into Paul’s face. It doesn’t seem to bother the other man, who just keeps looking at him. ‘How the hell do you tell someone you got your own fucking horse killed, huh? Hey man, I fucked up and my girl got torn apart for it. She screamed and I couldn’t help her! Couldn’t even look at her when I ended it, couldn’t give her any kind of ending she deserved. Ezekiel gave her to me and I just…’

‘It wasn’t your fault,’ Paul says softly.

‘It _is_ because she was _mine_ and you have to fucking carry what you cause!’

‘Daryl, this wasn’t your fau-‘

‘ _You can’t fucking know how it feels because you don’t give a shit about anyone or anything!_ ’

A slight frown now mars Paul’s face but he looks more confused by the sudden shift than upset.

‘You hate it here. You said so yourself, you don’t even wanna be here most of the time!’ Daryl jabs his finger into Paul’s face. Ash falls from the cigarette dangling from his lower lip. He lets it fall and crushes it with his boot while stepping closer, getting into Paul’s face now. ‘Dumped Alex as soon as he told you he loved you because you don’t give a fuck. Always running off and you don’t give a shit about who you leave behind!’

Paul doesn’t say anything.

‘Ain’t that right?’ Daryl’s voice is softer now, sweeter, the Southern accent swallowing the words whole. He moves even closer, their chests almost touch, hands settling on Paul’s narrow hips. Noses brush. Daryl looks at the pale lips before meeting Paul’s steady gaze again. ‘This what you want?’

‘You tried getting angry,’ Paul says. His voice steady and calm. ‘You tried _this_. Whatever you want – a fight, whatever it is you’re trying to get with this – it’s not working, Daryl. I’m not scared of you, and you’re nothing if not loyal to the ones you love. So stop it. _Stop it_ , and let us in. Maggie is worried sick about you and Merle doesn’t know what to do with himself. Whatever you’re feeling? That’s okay, but _talk_ to us.’

‘Was just a horse,’ Daryl whispers. ‘Weren’t like Hank or anyone else we lost.’

‘You loved her so much.’

Daryl swallows thickly before closing the gap between them. Instead of a kiss, he hugs his friend so tightly that he knows it must hurt Paul. Desperate fingers dig into shoulders, he presses his face into the man’s neck, hiding there as sobs wreck his body. ‘I’m sorry,’ he cries. ‘I’m so, so _sorry_.’

Paul holds him. He doesn’t say anything. Lazy fingers draw comforting circles on Daryl’s back while the younger man cries.

After minutes, Daryl slowly pulls back. Eyes down and ears red, wiping snot and tears from his face. He feels better somehow, just a little lighter around his heavy heart. ‘Thanks,’ he mutters with that touch of awkwardness that always makes Paul smile.

‘Of course. Honest this time around; did you sleep at all?’

‘Not really,’ Daryl admits. ‘I tried but had a couple of nightmares in a row. Didn’t want to try no more after that.’

Paul nods. ‘Did you eat something?’

‘Breakfast yesterday.’

‘We’ll get some food into you in a second,’ Paul says decisively. ‘Maggie is sending the mask to Alexandria, so they know what we’re dealing with. It’s hard to explain in a letter – I mean, it’s easy, but it doesn’t sound real.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Kal went back to retrieve the mask of the other walker. He’ll be heading to the Kingdom and then Washington to warn them.’ The corner of Paul’s mouth quirks upwards. ‘You should finish that letter. He’ll leave soon.’

‘Yeah – yeah, you’re right,’ Daryl dries his eyes and then leans forward to try and wipe his nose on Paul’s shoulder.

‘Keep your germs! That’s so gross, Daryl.’

Daryl sniggers despite his sadness. ‘Don’t got no tissue or nothing!’

‘There’s literally a rag hanging out of your back pocket!’

‘But that’s my rag! I ain’t blowin’ my nose on that, what the hell?’

‘So you take my _shoulder_?’

‘Well, you didn’t want to lend a hand earlier so I figured-‘

Paul shoves him away with a huff of laughter just as there’s a timid knock on the door. It opens after Daryl calls out and Kristine, the young girl, shuffles in. Her father is right behind her. A stern-looking man, one hand on his daughter’s shoulder, thumb rubbing soothing circles into her skin.

The girl looks up at Daryl.

‘Go on then,’ her father urges. He looks at Daryl, too. ‘Sorry, she just wanted… the funeral is over and she wanted to give you something.’

Daryl takes his rag and cleans his face and nose before throwing it onto his pile of laundry. He wipes the dark hair out of his eyes and walks over to the girl. ‘Hey, Kristine. ‘s up?’

‘Were you crying?’

Daryl blinks at the question. ‘Err… yeah.’ He glances at the father but sets his jaw as he kneels down before the girl, ‘I was sad, but Paul made me feel better. What’s that in your hand?’

‘I made it for you.’

‘Oh.’ Daryl waits a beat. ‘Can I see it?’

It’s a drawing. There’s a big hill and a sun with sunglasses on, the rays yellow and orange. A wonky flower at the base of the hill. Right on the top stands… something.

‘That’s Khamsin,’ the girl says. She points at the top of the hill.

‘Yeah, totally. That is so sweet of you, thank you,’ Daryl says as he studies the drawing with a watery smile. A slight frown creases his forehead. ‘Why is she blue though?’

‘I don’t know,’ Kristine admits as she wrings her hands nervously.

‘It’s awesome, real creative. Can I keep it?’

Kristine nods.

‘Great,’ Daryl says as he looks at the drawing. ‘I love it. Thank you – oh!’ Kristine jumps forward and hugs him tightly. ‘Thank you so much. This made me feel so much better.’

The girl leans back, eyes big. ‘Really?’

‘Yeah! And hey, if you ever need paper or more pencils? You know you can always come and get some from me, right? Gotta support the arts!’ Daryl grins when she blushes.

‘I’m not as good as you are.’

‘I hardly knew what a horse looked like at your age,’ Daryl jokes. ‘Just keep having fun with it and you’ll get better and better – and way better than me in a little while.’

Kristine beams and looks up at her dad as if she wants to make sure he heard it, too.

Her father laughs and tugs her close, squeezing her shoulder. ‘That’s right, you’ll get better and better, but he already loved it! Come on, let’s get going now.’ He shakes Daryl’s hand. The proud smile fades for a moment. ‘I’m sorry about your horse.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

The door closes behind the duo. Paul steps up behind Daryl, his chest against the Dixon’s back, chin on his shoulder arms around him. ‘That’s cute.’

Daryl brings one hand up to hold onto Paul’s wrist. ‘Yeah. Real cute.’

 

 

With the letter for Taiwo in his back pocket, Daryl finally leaves his room to go search for either Maggie or Merle. All work has officially been suspended for the day in Hank’s honor, but some people are working anyway. The guards of course, but he sees some stable hands working with the horses and a woman is tending to the sheep. The man in the gardens, pulling out weeds which could have waited until tomorrow. In the distance, Daryl can hear the blacksmith at work; hammer meeting anvil with steady strikes.

Others are resting. Children run around, off-duty soldiers are sitting together and sharing stories about their friend. Hank’s widow is sitting against the expansion, eyes vacant and an unopened bottle of moonshine hanging from limp fingers. She’s pale, but her lips form a tight, determined line.

He doubts she’ll ever bring that bottle to her lips.

Maggie and Merle are sitting at one of the picnic tables between the trailers. His big brother is holding Hershel while he talks to Kal, who looks ready to head out. Two of his best soldiers are already waiting by the gate with their horses.

Maggie spots him first, her gaze always gravitating to her children. She gets up, the smile of her face a strange mixture of sadness and relief. For a moment, the gaze travels to somewhere over Daryl’s shoulder. No doubt she’s meeting Paul’s eye.

Daryl doesn’t have to turn and look to confirm it. He knows it by the way her hand goes over her heart, a silent gesture of thanks to her dear friend.

‘It weren’t that bad,’ Daryl mutters as he initiates a hug. ‘I just couldn’t – with the funeral, and the fire and…’

‘I know,’ Maggie cups his cheeks. ‘You’ve been trying to avoid all of us since you got back though.’

‘Not just you all – everyone. Someone lost their husband, everyone lost their friend. It just feels wrong to… I don’t know.’

‘You’re allowed to be sad, Dare.’

He nods.

She presses a kiss to his cheek and then lets him move on to Merle, who shakes Kal’s hand and wishes him a safe journey.

‘You’re going to Washington, right?’ Daryl asks as he sits down on top of the picnic table.

Kal already holds his hand out for a letter, a knowing smile on his face. He puts it with his personal belongings rather than his saddlebag, for safe keeping. ‘I’ll make sure it gets to him – don’t worry about it.’ The smile fades. ‘I’m sorry about what happened at the graveyard. It probably wouldn’t have made a difference, but I’m sorry I wasn’t with you, man.’

‘Thanks,’ Daryl mutters as he plucks at a hole in his jeans. He squints up, ‘stay safe out there. Don’t trust nothing.’

Kal nods and takes his leave.

Next to him, Merle passes Hershel back to his mother. He doesn’t meet Daryl’s eye, just lights a cigarette and watches how the gate opens up and the riders disappear into a cloud of dust. There’s tension in his shoulders. He almost crushes the tobacco between his fingertips. When the gates close again, he seems to come to the conclusion that he can’t keep ignoring his little brother.

‘Crawled out of your hidin’ hole then?’ he grunts but won’t look at him.

‘Yeah,’ Daryl says. He wipes his nose on the back of his hand and hunches over, scratching at the wood of the table with blunt fingernails.

‘Right. Gonna join us on patrol or what?’

‘Merle,’ Maggie says with a warning in her voice.

The older Dixon rises and turns around so he’s facing her. He wags a finger at her. ‘Now don’t you Merle me, princess. He’s a big boy, right?’ The blue eyes pin Daryl in place. ‘You had your chance to have a good cry about it all, got your kisses ‘nd cuddles from the freak – now get back to fucking work!’ Merle snarls at his brother. ‘That’s what you wanted to be right? One of the guys. Start pullin’ your weight then!’

Daryl scowls at him. ‘What’re you talkin’ about? I am! You didn’t even want me out there!’

‘Because look what happened,’ Merle sneers.

A coldness engulfs Daryl. It washes over him, reminds him of the winter winds howling through the forest and breaking against his skin, of how snow settles on the rapidly cooling carcass of his latest kill.

He gets up. Towers over his brother. ‘Do you need me for patrol or not?’

‘No, we don’t need a repeat of last night.’

‘Fine.’ Daryl turns on his heels and jumps down from the table. He ignores Maggie, who calls after him, and runs off. His first instinct is to scale the wall and get out of here, to head into the woods to hunt and just be by himself, talk to Shane some. There’s nothing to say between them, though, nothing that would make this feel any less like a betrayal, or make him feel any less useless, or…

He turns around and runs back.

The people near the trailers seem unsure of what to do. Maggie and Merle’s raised voices draw people closer. While some are clearly just trying to catch a glimpse of the shouting match, others look concerned, especially when Hershel starts to cry as well. Nobody, however, seems very keen to jump between them. They’re probably scared they’ll get it, too.

‘The fuck are you even talking about?’ Daryl snarls as he stalks over to his brother, stepping around Maggie to get into his face. ‘One second you’re all up in my face about me not pullin’ my damn weight around here, and next second I ain’t good enough for patrol, ‘cause I got Hank and my horse killed? And I get it, right? I fucking get it, because you don’t want me to be outside those walls but you don’t want me being sad for two seconds either, because God knows what I’ll do, huh?’

Merle folds his arms in front of his chest and stares his brother down. ‘Ain’t about that. I know you won’t.’

‘What’s it about then?’

‘You’re sad over a fucking _horse_ ,’ Merle hisses. ‘There are people out there who get a hard-on from hunting us down and putting heads on pikes, of raining fire down on this whole goddamn colony to watch us burn. We’re losing people, and you’re sad about a _horse_.’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl nods, ‘I am.’

‘It makes you weak.’

‘It don’t, man.’ He presses the fingernail of his thumb into the pad of his index finger. The pain keeps his thoughts from spinning out of control, it keeps the anger at bay and the fear from taking his breath away. He tries to hold onto what Paul had tried to tell him, what Glenn had always tried to teach. He looks up at his brother. ‘Why can’t you just say you’re fucking scared, man?’

Merle looks like someone slapped him. Confused, a flash of hurt and then that brewing anger that makes Dixon features dark and more familiar. ‘Ain’t scared.’

‘Yeah – ‘cause we ain’t scared of nothing, right?’ Daryl scoffs. ‘That’s why you always want me to stay behind while you damn well know I’m one of the best soldiers you have. That’s why you want to cut me down now, make me think I won’t be able to protect anyone if I couldn’t even keep her safe, or when I couldn’t do a damn thing to help Hank, but guess what? You want me to tuck tail and run because you’re scared you’re gonna lose me!’

Merle works his jaw. ‘You think this was the worst of it? These people – they wear walker skin. They beheaded our people, left them out to rot just to send a message. Just to _introduce_ themselves. You’re sad because you lost your horse? You’re going to lose so much more! She’s just the first, baby brother.’

Daryl nods. ‘I’m scared you’re right, but I’ve fought in a war before. I know what it feels like, and I’m gonna do everything I can to make sure we all make it. One of us doesn’t? Hmm. Don’t know what I’ll fucking do, man. Ain’t gonna be pretty, that’s for sure, but I’ll fucking honor them by going on. And if I’m the one who dies? Y’all better shed some tears and be sad for a moment before carrying on! It won’t make you weak. It’ll make you less of an asshole.’

Merle glares at him.

‘We went to war – what, two months after you joined the group? You didn’t give a shit about any of them when we took on the Saviors,’ Daryl says. ‘But you and Maggie are like this now, right?’ He twists his fingers together and holds them up. ‘Probably look at her and see the sister we lost, huh? Yeah. Rick’s one of your best friends. Hell, you wouldn’t know what to fucking do with yourself if Hershel died! You didn’t give a fuck about any of them before, but it ain’t just us anymore, and it’s okay to be scared to lose them – but don’t you take it out on me!’

‘Listen to yourself,’ Merle sneers. ‘You got it all figured out, huh?’

‘Yeah. Figured it all out years ago for myself. Get with the program, old man.’

‘You’re pathetic.’

Daryl sets his jaw and nods. ‘Okay. Yeah – maybe, but I ain’t about the tough love no more. There ain’t no such thing.’ He hitches his crossbow higher onto his shoulder. ‘I’m gonna join the patrol. Go fuck yourself, Merle.’

 

 

It doesn’t surprise Daryl at all that Paul is also waiting by the gates to join the patrol group. He usually takes the afternoon shift to get out of the colony for a bit. While most of the guards saddle their horses, Daryl and Paul open the gates to start their own route on foot. They walk down the twisting path and then head into the fields.

The farm has spilled over the wall, out into the land surrounding the colony. The few vegetable patches had been enough to sustain them for one summer and winter, but Maggie has bigger plans. Grain, fruit trees, more vegetables and medicinal herbs so Daryl won’t have to go out of his way to find them in the forest. It will be enough to feed all of Hilltop, and leave some for the trade with the other communities as well so they can buy fuel and bullets, maybe even more horses from the Kingdom.

They don’t talk.

Paul seems to be lost in thought, and Daryl likes the silence.

People greet them with curt nods, a friendly word or wave.

It’s a beautiful day. Not too warm but warm enough for Daryl to roll up the sleeves of his jacket and unbutton the top three buttons of his shirt so his necklaces sparkle in the sunshine. Maggie often complains that she wishes he would keep himself as clean as his jewelry and crossbow. It’s late in the afternoon. The shadows are long and the first workers are starting to pack up their stuff to head back home. Most haven’t come out today, mourning the loss of their friend, but Daryl spots one of Hank’s closest friends in the outer field.

She’s driving a pick-axe into the earth to break it apart before grabbing a shovel and starting to dig. They’re planning to build a low fence there to mark the separation of the fields. Her movements are jerky and messy, the holes will probably end up deeper than necessary but Daryl doesn’t interrupt her.

Paul sits down on one of the fences. One leg on each side so he can face the forest and colony at the same time.

Daryl climbs up too and sits down. They lean with their backs against each other automatically. Sometimes they’ll sit like this on Daryl’s balcony, or up in the tower so they can oversee the whole area. Their talks are usual about what’s going on in the colony. Paul hardly ever complains but sometimes the irritation bleeds into his words when he talks about asinine things as noise complaints or how people want more choices when it comes to clothing. Daryl in turns brings him news from other communities, nothing important really, he delivers that news at the morning meetings, but the more mundane stuff.

That Henry had done something stupid and had to do seven night shifts in a row as punishment. One of the doctors had modified Jayla’s prosthetic leg for her so it is more comfortable. That Carl is thinking about passing his hat to Judith now that she’s getting so big. That Enid is now training with Rosita and is learning everything she can about explosives. That a couple of younger girls from Oceanside had smuggled booze back to their community after the fair and ended up passed out on the beach with only Rachel to watch their backs.

‘Did you finish the letter?’ Paul asks suddenly.

‘Yeah,’ Daryl says.

‘You must miss him.’

‘Yeah, loads. Especially now, of course. It’s kinda weird, ‘cause I got all y’all, but I still think everything would suck less if he were here, ya know?’

‘Daryl Dixon in love,’ Paul says with a soft laugh. ‘Who would have ever guessed.’

Daryl smiles. It fades when a walker comes stumbling out of the forest. Shirt all torn up and one shoe trailing after him, the laces still tied around a bony ankle. Hair long, matted, hiding most of its face. So skinny that Daryl wonders how they’re managing to hold themselves up at all.

‘I’ll get it,’ Paul says.

‘It’s on my side.’ Daryl slides off the fence and loads his crossbow. It’s an easy shot and the walker goes down.

‘You normally get it with your knife.’

‘Ain’t no reason to come close to them. Maggie always tells me not to.’ Daryl looks back at Paul. ‘I ain’t scared of them, if that’s what you’re thinking. Every walker could be a person wearing their skin, makes no difference. Still got to get them in the head.’

 

 

Merle, Paul, Maggie, Dante and Daryl are eating dinner outside on the porch to honor the beautiful spring day. It’s quickly getting dark but nobody minds. One of the fires is burning close to Barrington house, shadows dance over all their faces. Hershel is sitting in Daryl’s lap. The Dixon has placed his baseball cap over his brother’s dark hair, and Hershel is absolutely thrilled with it. He keeps babbling on, tugging at Daryl’s shirt to get his attention whenever Daryl’s gaze wanders to the stars or the rest of his family.

‘Yeah, you’re wearing my hat,’ Daryl agrees. ‘Nice, huh? You like it?’

Hershel laughs.

‘Good,’ Daryl grins even though he’s pretty sure Hershel has no clue what he’s talking about, of course. ‘We need to find you one your size, my man!’ He looks up when Merle walks over and sits down next to them.

‘Here.’ He shoves his bowl of food into Daryl’s left hand. ‘Eat up. Skin ‘nd bones.’

Daryl balances the bowl on his knee and quickly scoops the meat into his mouth because he’s a teenager and always hungry these days. ‘Glenn used to say that ain’t much of an apology,’ he says while licking his fingers clean. ‘Sharin’ food? Ain’t much of an apology,’ he clarifies when Merle raises an eyebrow.

‘Ain’t got nothing I need to apologize for.’

‘Whatever.’

‘Lose the kid ‘nd give me a cigarette.’

Daryl rolls his eyes but still twists around to see if Maggie can take the boy. She’s on the other side of the porch, curled up next to Paul, talking softly with him. She doesn’t notice him looking, but Dante, who is on her other side, does. Daryl hesitates for a second before jerking his chin.

Dante gets up, a frown on his face. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Can you take him?’ Daryl scoops Hershel up and holds him out to the man.

Minutes later, he and Merle walk a slow lap around the house. The cigarette gets passed between them. They don’t talk until they sit down on the steps leading up to the wall. From here, they can see the porch. Aaron has joined the rest outside. He’s sitting next to Paul on the balustrade as they watch how Dante pretends to dance with Hershel. The toddler is giggling, and so is Maggie.

‘You were right; wouldn’t know what to do with myself if something happened to them.’

‘Say the first part again.’

‘Fuck you, monster.’

Daryl laughs. ‘Close enough.’

‘I know you’re tough as nails.’ Merle takes the last drag and throws the cigarette onto the ground. ‘Ain’t no doubt about that, brother.’

A silence stretches between them.

‘That’s all I’m gonna get?’ Daryl asks. He sounds incredulous.

‘Yeah.’

‘Kinda thought we were gonna talk about our feelings, ya know,’ Daryl says. ‘Maybe braid each other’s hair while we’re at it.’

Merle snorts and shoves his shoulder. ‘Fairy like you would like that, huh?’

‘Sometimes, yeah… But you’re fucking bald already so I’ll do that with Paul. Come on, man, get up.’

Merle laughs and follows him. He stops when Daryl stops and turns to face him. ‘What the hell do you want now? Yeah, yeah – I love you. There – is that what you-‘

Daryl draws his fist back and hits Merle right in the mouth. He shakes the pain out of his knuckles seconds later, looking incredibly pleased with himself.

‘Fucking hell,’ Merle moans as he touches his front teeth, testing to see whether they’ve come loose or not. ‘What the hell was that for?’

‘You called Paul a freak,’ Daryl says with a small smile. ‘He ain’ no freak.’

‘No, you are! Jesus Christ, boy. There’s something wrong with you, and I ain’t talking about you ‘nd muscles. Goddamn.’ Merle laughs as he slings his arm around his younger brother’s shoulders. ‘Kidding, kidding. Don’t hit old Merle again now, Darleena. Rosita taught you that right hook? Yeah, fucking thought so. That woman is something to worship, man. On my knees like _that_.’

‘’cause she broke your kneecaps,’ Daryl laughs, slinging his own arm around his brother’s waist.

‘Rather have _her_ on her knees then,’ Merle leers. He rubs over the side of Daryl’s head with his knuckles.

Together, they walk back to Barrington House.

 

 

Miles away, Beth is standing on the platform outside of the factory. She watches how a herd of walkers piles up against the front gate. Dead arms reaching for the guards that walk past to inspect the fences, to make sure they hold against the force.

Cyndie from Oceanside had helped them create a diversion system of sounds to distract walkers heading for the community. They’ve used that system at Oceanside since the start and it’s extremely rare that a walker makes its way to their colony.

Let alone a herd.

Beth watches. Soon, she’ll head down the stairs and join the group that is starting to take out walkers with spears, just like they’d done at the prison. For now, just a couple of seconds longer, she watches the row of walkers at the very back of the herd.

Twenty of them, standing in a neat line.

They’re not moving.

They’re watching her.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the support on the last chapter. <3 much love


	50. Fireworks

 

* * *

 

 

 

The wind bites at his hands and cheeks. Needle-sharp teeth scraping over his skin, coloring it red – or maybe that’s the sun setting behind them. The sky is already exploding with colors – red, fading yellow, there’s some purple there, dark blue blending into the darkness of the coming night. Daryl glances up at that sky. He wishes they still had Glenn’s polaroid and wonders whether he’d waste a picture on something so fleeting if he could have Maggie’s laugh instead, Merle’s knowing look, or Hershel’s excited grin whenever his big brother enters the room.

Merle’s hand is heavy on his shoulder. Knees digging into Daryl’s thighs even though they’re not going very fast. He doesn’t like being on the back of the bike but Daryl had refused to give his spot up, so Merle sat down heavily after a glaring match that could only last a couple of seconds due to the circumstances. Daryl doesn’t doubt that if he’d grown up in a normal world, Merle would have walked instead of riding bitch with his little brother, just to prove a point.

There’s no time for any of that though.

The Sanctuary’s call for help came in an hour ago. Beth raising Maggie with a calm voice. A herd at the gates, milling about and circling the entire complex. Four bodies deep, it’d take them days to end them all on their own. The moment of hesitation and then the comment that the walkers weren’t behaving as they did normally. A mindless herd at the gates, but walkers in the fields beyond, watching.

Maggie had pledged their help immediately, summoning Paul, Merle and Daryl to form a plan.

Alexandria’s call came ten minutes later.

Rick’s gravelly voice, sounding all business when explaining the situation. A herd. Four bodies deep. Slowly surrounding the city. The walls will hold, Rick explains, but no – Maggie doesn’t understand, _there’s something wrong with the walkers_. Rosita’s sniper rifle, the one with the thermal scope; the walkers still ambling through the woods around Alexandria are different.

They’re still alive, Rick says. They came out of nowhere, they avoided every walker trap in the woods, they’re thinking, strategizing, ambushing.

‘Update?’ Merle asks after identifying himself.

Daryl can’t hear Maggie coming through. He focusses on keeping the bike quiet, letting it crawl forward. They’re almost at the agreed point. When he reaches the intersection, he plants both of his feet firmly on the ground and stops. The wind smells of summer nights. The world is quiet, with only the static from the radio disturbing their peace.

He takes a bandana from his back pocket and ties it around his face. Black and white, not his usual red, so he must have stolen it from Paul’s trailer a while ago.

‘Copy that,’ Merle says. He clips the radio back onto his belt. He squeezes his brother’s shoulder. ‘Open it up and we’ll match up fine.’

The bike roars as Daryl twists the handle. Merle holds onto the handles on the back of the bike to stay seated and Daryl doesn’t mind. It’s still strange to ride with his older brother. Normally it’s either Carl or Beth on the back, both light and always plastered to his back, chin on his shoulder to see the road.

Merle has the annoying habit of trying to be helpful while they ride together. At least, he pretends that’s his main motivation and not the fact that he doubts whether his little brother is able to ride on such a powerful bike. After the second ‘watch that corner, it’s sharper than it looks’, Daryl had stopped, twisted around in his seat and pummeled his brother until Merle had understood the message.

He’s quiet now. His fingernails dig into Daryl’s shoulder with every turn they make, but that’s easier to ignore

The countryside flashes by. There’s a small forest to break the wind and then a town. Abandoned and stripped clean by Paul’s crew when they first founded Hilltop. Most buildings are just skeletons now. Daryl parks the bike so it faces Hilltop Colony. He hides it behind a crumbling stone wall that used to be part of a storage unit.

Merle has a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. He grabs the radio. ‘Almost in position.’

‘Let me talk to Maggie, man,’ Daryl complains because he’s used to carrying a radio around when he’s outside of the walls.

Merle rolls his eyes and walks away.

Daryl looks at their destination. A water tower at the edge of the town. The white paint has been chipped off and it’s a rusty dark brown color now. It’s the highest building that has a semi flat roof for miles and miles. It’s high enough that, if it had been daytime, they would have been able to see the Sanctuary’s chimneys out in the distance, and maybe even Alexandria’s highest watchtower. Just the tip of it.

It’s getting dark fast though.

‘Scared, monster?’

Daryl shakes his head and follows his brother. When he reaches him, he slips past and jumps onto the first rung of the ladder leading up to the water tower. ‘I’m going up first, don’t want your stinkin’ ass in my face.’

‘Real mature, man,’ Merle mutters but when Daryl relaxes, he grabs his brother by the belt and yanks him off the ladder, jumping up himself. ‘That hippie didn’t teach you nothing? Never let your guard down.’

‘Don’t make me smack you again. Stop calling him names, man.’

‘ _Stop calling him names._ _Mom! Mom, they’re teasing Jesus_! Could have called him a lot worse than that, he should be fuckin’ thrilled old Merle is even wasting a thought on his pathetic -‘

‘Merle.’

Merle hangs from a rung and looks down.

Daryl wipes his nose on the back of his hand and adjusts his cap before glancing up. ‘Don’t.’

‘Pussy,’ Merle laughs but he’s silent while they climb up the ladder. It’s a long way and Daryl is secretly glad that Merle went first. His fingers are cold as he wraps them around rung after rung after rung, going up, up, up. Breathing becomes harder. He’s slower than his big brother and he bets Merle would have bitched if he’d slowed him down, too.

‘Grab my hand, brother.’

Daryl looks up.

Merle smiles and hauls him onto the creaking platform that goes around the water tower. The wind bites that their faces again and the darkness spreads like an oil stain over the earth. The sky is black already. A couple of trees out in the distance still have their golden sheen where the sun is going down.

‘Boost me up.’

‘ _You_ boost _me_ up!’ Daryl protests. ‘I can do it! That thing ain’t gonna hold both of us, look at it!’

Merle looks torn. There are already holes in the top of the tower. Metal rusting through. He grunts and throws the duffle bag up on the roof before bracing himself against the wall. He folds his hands. ‘Careful now. Got your light on ya?’

‘’Course I got my light on me,’ Daryl sniffs. He puts his boot on Merle’s folded hands and braces himself. He gets boosted so quick and high that he almost yelps.

Merle sniggers.

‘Asshole,’ Daryl hisses back as soon as he’s up on the roof. ‘Okay, so – I gotta… err..’

‘You said you could do it!’ Merle snarls.

‘I can! Shut up!’

‘Put them down and light them up!’

‘The roof ain’t flat enough, man!’

‘Don’t make me come up there to whoop your ass now!

‘I didn’t design the fucking roof or anything, what am I supposed to do? You sound just like dad always did. Good lord.’

There’s a long silence.

‘Don’t, monster,’ Merle says, voice soft and lacking its usual bite.

Daryl scoots back to the edge so he can look down at him. A small smile. ‘Pussy.’

Merle smiles back.

The radio crackles. ‘Alpha, Bravo, Charlie in position. Delta? Come in.’

‘Shit,’ Daryl hisses and he holds out his hand for his brother to take it. ‘Come up! We gotta hurry!’

Merle grabs his hand and walks up the wall, grunting as he slides onto the creaking roof as well, mindful of the holes. ‘Yeah, Delta almost in – err – Daryl had to piss, wait a sec-‘

‘Did not!’ Daryl says as he yanks the bag open and starts putting boxes on the roof. They’re all black and Daryl knows that there used to be colorful pictures on the sides. He watches how much space Merle puts between them and copies his brother. Second slater, he’s crawling over the rusted metal to connect wires.

‘Delta in position,’ Merle pants as he kicks at Daryl to get him to lower himself to the platform again. ‘Countdown thirty seconds.’

Daryl palms his lighter and counts the seconds while staring at the wire. At ten, he flicks it open, shielding the flame with his free hand. Merle grabs the wire and at zero, they ignite it.

A soft whizzing noise. The flame shooting up the wire, burning it until it disappears over the ridge. A second. Another. Another. Another.

Daryl looks at Merle.

Merle frowns and opens his mouth.

A horrible screeching noise, hissing, sizzling, sputtering, a loud screeching sound.

Daryl looks up at the ink black sky.

A trail of fire and then.

 _Fireworks_.

Loud booms like canons going off, an explosion of color right above their heads. Showers of gold and blue and red, greens mixing with silver. It shoots up and falls down, drizzles like rain and bursts like the Kingdom’s summer fruit. Vivid like the sunrise and sunset, just as loud as Rick’s gun going off right next to his ear.

Daryl watches with an open mouth.

Merle whoops and pulls him close. ‘Happy Fourth of July brother!’

‘This is fucking awesome,’ the teenager laughs breathlessly. He’s seen fireworks before but never like this. Not in a world this quiet, where he can hear every pop and every sizzle, not when the colors were this bright. His brother’s arm around his shoulders, both watching the color display with awe.

Merle tears his gaze away first. ‘Gotta get movin’. It’ll scatter them.’

Another round of fireworks. The entire sky is made of gold. Daryl’s ears are ringing from the explosions. He can feel the booms inside his own chest.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ he mutters and walks back towards the ladder, eyes still on the heavens. ‘Christ, look at that though.’

‘Used to be like that twice a year man. Three times, if we won the goddamn Super Bowl.’ Merle sounds sad.

Daryl grins up at the colors. ‘It’s like that right now. I saw it. It was good, man.’ He’s grinning from ear to ear as he starts to slide down the ladder. It’s a move Paul taught him, though he should be wearing gloves while doing it. The palms of his hands burn as he kicks himself away from the ladder, landing on his feet. Momentum causes him to take a couple of quick steps to regain his balance.

Paul would have called it a terrible landing just to needle him, and Merle rolls his eyes. ‘He teaching you all that fancy shit now?’

‘Have you seen him slide down the columns of the house? I’m gonna wait until Taiwo rides through those gates and then casually slide down like a badass.’ Daryl puffs up his chest but then winces. ‘Don’t tell Maggie he’s teaching me that stuff!’

‘You’re pathetic in so many ways.’

Daryl laughs.

‘Shotgun!’

He drops to his knees and then rolls through the grass. His heartbeat matches the booming above them, the fireworks still coloring their world all kinds of colors. He doesn’t hear any shots though.

Merle saunters past with a smug smile. ‘I meant on the bike, you little bitch.’

 

 

The sky is all black again when they tear up the winding road leading up to Hilltop Colony. The gate only starts to open when they take the last corner and while Daryl usually lets the bike dwindle in front of it, Merle just blows through the tiny gap, laughing when he feels how Daryl digs his knees into his thighs to try and make himself smaller.

Daryl lifts himself up by holding onto his brother’s shoulders. He spots Aaron and Maggie by the stables. Soldiers are sitting on the low fence where Maggie trains the young horses. He sees team Bravo and Charlie, but Alpha isn’t there yet.

Merle parks the bike.

Daryl jumps off and runs over to Aaron and Maggie. ‘Did it work? We had interference on the coms.’

Aaron nods. ‘The fireworks dispersed both herds, just like Merle said it would. It worked. Even if those… _people_ were herding the walkers, like Beth thinks they do, they couldn’t hold this. It was a frenzy.’

‘No-one got hurt?’

‘Rick lost one of his guards when they closed in. Ian,’ Aaron says before Daryl can ask. ‘Too many walkers. He was cut off.’

‘They’re supposed to be in groups of five.’

‘They were.’

‘And only one went down?’ Daryl asks skeptically. ‘No offense, but he didn’t seem the self-sacrificing type to me.’

Aaron doesn’t answer right away and won’t meet his eye anymore. ‘Rick and Michonne will figure it out,’ he says after a moment of silence.

‘Yeah, for sure.’ Daryl frowns and looks around. ‘What’s keeping Paul? I don’t see his team here.’

‘He’s not back yet,’ Maggie says. She’s cleaning her fingernails with her knife. ‘It’s fine. He can take care of himself. He knows what he’s doing – he’s got good people with him.’ She works her jaw and nods, eyes misty. ‘He’ll be fine.’

‘Stop saying that like you don’t believe it.’ Daryl reaches out to take the knife and put it back in her sheath. ‘He knows what’s out there. Hell – even I can’t sneak up him when he’s actually paying attention. One tough son of a bitch.’ Daryl ducks his head to catch her eye. ‘Where’s Kiss?’

‘Dante’s showing him the horses. All the fuzz woke him up, I couldn’t get him to go back to sleep.’

‘Okay. I’ll go and walk the perimeter, see if-‘

‘No,’ Maggie says quickly. ‘Just – just stay here.’

‘But I can do it!’ Daryl protests. ‘What? You want me to go to bed or something – I ain’t some fucking kid no more, this is such-‘

‘Daryl.’ Aaron narrows his eyes.

Maggie is still fidgeting. She’s pulling at her own fingers and keeps glancing at the gate and the guards above it, probably waiting for the signal that Paul’s group is approaching. She looks drawn. Tired.

‘Oh,’ Daryl deflates. ‘Yeah – yeah, I can stay with you a while, sure.’ He sits down on the fence next to her. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees how Aaron starts to climb the wall to do the perimeter check instead. Daryl plucks at his fraying jeans. ‘He’ll be back soon, probably just showing off – killing some walkers with his pinky or something. You know what he’s like.’

Maggie doesn’t react.

Daryl bites on his lip. ‘Want me to go get Dante or something? Merle? I ain’t really that comforting.’

She turns her head to look at him. ‘And you’re suggesting _Merle_ instead?’

‘Well, Aaron was just here and you didn’t stop him from leaving, so … I panicked. I don’t know.’ He bites on the nail of his thumb. ‘Ain’t really good at this.’

‘You are. Better than you’ll ever know.’ Maggie pushes her dark hair behind her ear. ‘Sometimes I have nightmares about this. That I tell you all to do something and one day – one of you won’t come back. I told Hank to join one of the teams and he didn’t come back.’

Daryl shrugs. ‘Yeah, maybe that’ll happen, but you’re not sending us out to get killed. You’re sending us because we’re the best people for the job. Quick and clean run? Kick Kal out there, he’ll get it done. Some show of strength? Merle ‘nd Paul together. Quiet? Leave Merle fucking home.’

The corner of Maggie’s mouth twitches. The smile lasts for just a second. ‘I should be out there more.’

‘Nah, your place is here. Not just with Hershel – people listen to you. They look to you – Paul’s here when he’s here, you know, but you’re here all the time. You know how to make calls like that – who goes where and why, you know what’s important. You don’t send me out there to go find some Christmas decorations. Good lord, you remember that? Get some fucking priorities, people.’

Maggie smiles. ‘Sometimes I close my eyes and I’ll still hear you screaming how you’ll hang some pine cones from your dick to celebrate _Jesus’_ _fucking birthday_.’

Daryl grins. ‘Things got awkward when some people thought I wanted to celebrate Paul’s birthday that way – they’d missed the whole Christmas thing and thought I was just… I don’t know,’ he laughs while hiding his face behind his hands. ‘It was a _mess_.’

Maggie laughs too.

‘The worst part?’ Daryl parts his fingers on his left hand and peeks at his friend. ‘Paul left a pine cone on my bed the next day! He’s denying but I _know_ it was him. In my bones, I know it! That little shit.’

‘He did,’ Maggie nods. ‘I saw him walking up the stairs with that thing.’

‘And you just let him do that? Pssh. Thought you were against us gettin’ all frisky.’

She laughs again. ‘It’s pretty obvious who you want to get all f _risky_ with, and he’s not living here.’

Daryl grins at his boots. ‘Yeah.’ The grin fades. ‘You think that, maybe, if this quiets down, that he… I mean, would it be cool if he, like… came to stay a while? Probably not just him, but the whole squad – if they wanna? I didn’t really ask them yet because – they probably don’t want to, but- that still cool with you?‘

Maggie reaches out and takes his hand in hers. She holds on tightly. ‘Your friends are always welcome here, but let’s wait until we at least know what _this_ is.’

‘Yeah.’ Daryl kicks his boots against the fence beneath him. ‘You thought Tai was okay though, right? Like – nice?’

‘Very nice. Very polite. I think he was scared of Hershel though.’

Daryl snorts. ‘He’s not really used to kids, other than Felix.’

‘That’ll change when he comes around more often. Kids are drawn to you.’

‘Hmm. I like kids – think they’re awesome.’ He bites on his lips, ‘never really thought about… everyone had the same plan back home, you know? Maybe finish high school, find a nice girl, get a trailer or small house – bunch of kids. Growin’ old right where we started.’ He shrugs. ‘Seemed like a good a plan as any – weren’t even thinking about no girls, but that was the plan anyway. Lots of things changed.’

‘Yeah,’ Maggie says with a small smile. ‘They really did. I had the same plans even though I tried to fight it. Maybe that was why I acted out – ‘cause I always knew I’d end up back on my daddy’s farm, no matter how hard I tried to run. In a way, I did, I guess,’ she looks around the dark colony, and then back at Daryl. ‘Never thought I’d adopt a redneck teenager though.’

‘Real glad you did,’ Daryl grins.

‘Real glad I did, too,’ she reaches up to touch his cheek. ‘Plans change – just like we do.’

 

 

Half an hour later, the gates open.

Daryl gently shakes Maggie, she’d fallen asleep with her head on his shoulder just after Dante had carried Hershel back to Barrington House to try and get him to sleep again. Bleary eyes, blinking, she slides off the fence but stumbles until Daryl steadies her.

‘They’re all here,’ Daryl says as he does a quick headcount. ‘They’re all here but-‘

The count is off anyway.

Paul is walking next to his spotted horse. There’s blood on his armor, a spatter pattern on his face. His face is pale as he passes the fire pits. One of his gloved hands comes up when soldiers rush towards his squad to greet their friends. One finger over his lips.

Be silent.

Daryl follows Maggie as she goes to meet him. He stops as soon as he realizes what is going on.

There’s a girl sitting on Paul’s horse. Blond hair that falls past her shoulders, dark clothes that seem to be stained and dirty. A dark bandana has been tied to cover her eyes and her wrists have been tied together. She must have had difficulty staying on the horse because Paul has tied her to that as well. Daryl doubts she would have tried to run when surrounded by Paul’s group of soldiers.

Paul is talking to Maggie now. Standing so close together that their cheeks brush, whispering into each other’s ears.

Maggie nods and Paul gestures to his soldiers. They start to cut the rope around the girl’s waist and then help her down. The blindfold can’t be the only reason she’s moving so clumsily off the animal. She probably can’t ride.

One soldier grabs her upper arm and leads her towards the side of Barrington house while his friend opens the hatch to the cellar, where the new cells are located.

The doors close.

‘She one of them?’ Daryl hisses as he darts over to Paul.

Paul glances at the soldiers surrounding them. ‘Let’s get inside.’

 

 

It’s dark down in the cellar.

Daryl holds a torch and slowly walks down the steps. He knows the exact lay-out of the room, that the two cells are on the right side and the shelves with produce that can keep to the left. His meat in jars with salt, pelts drying on racks for when winter comes again, sacks of potatoes piled in the corner. Herbs hang from the ceiling to dry and keep.

The cells are an exact replica of Alexandria’s. It’ll give them a choice, Maggie had said when she’d ordered them to be build. Thick bars but no small window. A wooden bench that’s too heavy for one person to lift. It could be a bed, though Daryl reckons the floor will be more comfortable.

He puts the torch in the holder by the door.

The girl is sitting on the bench in the first cell. Back perfectly straight, blond hair out of her pretty face, hands folded in her lap. She’s staring at one of the jars, maybe, or perhaps she’s not seeing anything at all. She doesn’t look up when Daryl walks over.

‘Jesus says you wouldn’t talk to him. Can’t blame you, after he whooped all your asses out there,’ Daryl leans against the bars with his shoulder and smiles. ‘I’d be pretty embarrassed too.’

The girl sets her jaw. She’s can’t be any older than him.

‘Hey,’ Daryl says. ‘I’m sorry about your friends.’

The girl glances at him. ‘You’re the hunter,’ she whispers. ‘We know who you are. We saw you.’

‘Yeah?’ Daryl smirks, ‘you been watchin’?’

She nods. ‘The dead – out in the fields when they came knocking…. You killed them.’ Her voice is so soft that Daryl has to concentrate to be able to hear her. She sounds sad.

‘Yeah, they’re dangerous. You don’t kill them?’

‘They protect us,’ she whispers.

‘Your people? I saw them out in the fields. You wear their faces, right? Is that how they protect you?’

The girl shrugs. She pushes a strand of blonde hair behind her small ear. ‘We don’t wear _their_ faces. People’s faces. We live with them – the dead. We protect them, and they protect us.’

Daryl lets his fingers slide up and down the bars of the cell. He smirks, ‘less smelly? People’s faces?’

The girl giggles. ‘That too. We don’t hurt the dead.’

‘What’s your name?’

‘Lydia.’

‘I’m Daryl Dixon. How old are you? I’m… seventeen, I think. Eighteen, maybe, if I lost count. Makes no difference anymore anyway, though Jesus keeps talking to me like I’m some sort of kid. It’s pretty annoying.’

She gets up and walks over to him with slow, measured steps. When she reaches the bars, she lifts her hand. Fingertips brush over Daryl’s. ‘Seventeen, I think. Jesus is wrong. There are no children anymore.’

Daryl leans in closer, his chest pressed against the bars. ‘I got a little brother. Toddler-little. That’s a child.’

She looks surprised. A quick step back like she’s frightened, but then she seems to steel herself. ‘He won’t survive.’

‘Oh, he will,’ Daryl says and she doesn’t yet know it’s a promise. ‘We’re building a new community here. A whole new world. You’ve been among the dead?’ he shakes his head, ‘we’ve been out here. Livin’. Thrivin’. Got food, a warm bed to sleep in, people to share it with,’ he flashes her a grin. ‘The food, I mean. Of course.’

‘Of course,’ Lydia whispers but smiles, too.

Daryl looks down at his boots and then back up again. ‘You’re real pretty.’

She blushes. ‘My mother says you’re a good fighter.’

‘Just good, huh?’

Another whisper of a giggle. ‘My mom’s the leader of our group. She’s not easy to impress.’

‘I know all about parents like that,’ Daryl says. ‘I once caught the biggest, fattest deer you’ve ever seen. Like- it had a fat ass, you know what I mean? ‘course that makes it easier to hit, but I dragged it all the way back to camp! By myself! And I was, like – yea-high,’ he points to his waist. ‘Got back, my dad _still_ tanned my hide. I took too fucking long.’

Lydia nods and sighs. She sits down on the bench. ‘My mom’s like that, too. This was my first outing. She’s never going to let me out of her sight after this.’ She suddenly looks scared again. ‘If I ever see her again.’

‘You will,’ Daryl says. ‘We don’t kill prisoners.’

‘She’ll come looking for me.’

‘We won’t kill her neither, if she doesn’t try anything stupid. I hope you take after your mom,’ he says with a small smile. ‘You don’t look stupid to me.’

She rubs her hands together. ‘Thanks.’

‘You cold?’

She shrugs and looks at the small bench she’s sitting on, ‘I thought you had warm beds to share.’

Daryl laughs. ‘Easy now, we only just met. Hungry too?’

‘No.’

‘Okay. I’ll make sure someone brings you a couple of blankets. A pillow, if they can find one.’

Lydia jumps up in alarm when he turns to walk away. ‘Wait! You’re – you’re leaving? I thought you were my guard.’

‘Past my bedtime,’ Daryl says with a smirk, ‘nah, it ain’t my shift. Just… I saw you when you came in, and… I dunno,’ he chuckles and ducks his head shyly. ‘I just wanted to talk to you some.’

‘Oh.’ She wobbles on the balls of her feet. ‘I liked talking to you.’

‘I’ll come back in the morning,’ Daryl promises. ‘I gotta go now, before my mom catches me down here. She runs this place, together with Jesus. Ain’t really my mom of course, but… she’s good people, you’ll see. Try to get some sleep.’

She wrings her hands and then nods.

‘Good night, Lydia.’

‘Good night, Daryl.’

He leaves the torch on the wall and closes the doors.

Maggie, Paul, Aaron and Merle are waiting for him on the porch. Paul is drinking water. He has washed up, hair still damp but face now clean. He’s talking to Merle while Maggie paces and Aaron studies a part of the map.

‘I ain’t ever doing that again,’ Daryl says as he jumps over the railing and lands on the porch. ‘That girl is crazy! My tongue’s bleeding, I had to bite it so hard! Her name’s Lydia, she’s seventeen. Her mom is the leader of their group, says she’ll be coming for her. That group? Batshit crazy.’

Paul smiles at the ranting teenager. ‘Yeah?’

‘Yes! They don’t kill the dead – but we knew that already, right? Wear their faces – but they _live_ with them. They _protect_ them. They don’t kill them and wear their faces! No, no, because boohoo, they don’t want to hurt them! So instead – know what they do?’

Paul lifts a questioning eyebrow.

‘They cut the faces off the living – or like, recently dead, not yet-turned –I’m hoping… oh God, she didn’t even say! They don’t wear the walker’s faces. They wear _people’s faces_.’

Merle rolls his eyes. ‘Goddamn freaks knocking on our doors.’

‘Did she say anything else?’ Maggie asks.

‘They don’t have children in their group. She said they don’t exist anymore. I told her I have a little brother and she looked… I don’t know, scared? Scared for him, I mean.’ Daryl walks over to Merle and sits down next to his brother.

‘How’d you get her to talk?’

‘Shit talked Paul,’ Daryl mutters while he lights a cigarette. ‘Works with everyone, I swear to God.’

‘You sure you didn’t bat no eyelashes? Didn’t pop that fourth button of your shirt open?’ Merle leers.

‘Just a little bit,’ Daryl laughs. He inhales sharply. ‘Oh, and the freak wants a blanket.’

 

 

The sun is already rising again when Daryl finally falls face-first into his bed. He’s still wearing his jacket, his boots, still has all his knives clipped to his belt and ankle. His limbs feel heavy and his ears are still buzzing from being in the various meetings. He’d stayed a while longer than necessary to listen to the radio-chatter from the various communities.

Both of the herds dispersed as soon as the fireworks exploded. The sound had travelled which had led some heading north, but others had followed the light instead and went south. The big herds slowly broke up in smaller ones, organically spreading out when coming across wildlife and other distracting noises long after the fireworks had faded.

The clearing of the walker meant that both Kal and the other messengers arrived safely at Alexandria and the Sanctuary. The masks in Beth and Dwight, Rick and Michonne’s hands. Jerry’s voice had come through for the King, while one of Washington’s soldiers represented Mason.

Daryl sat beside Merle and listened to the chatter about masks and walkers and scouting and maps – barely awake enough to follow the conversations. At one point Tara took over for Rick, and Daryl kept hoping to hear Taiwo’s voice coming through from Washington but that didn’t happen.

Now, he crawls further onto the bed to nose at his pillow, not caring that his boots dirty his bed. He dozes, shrugs out of his jacket, throws the shirt aside and tries to sleep, too tired to take his boots off. He’s used to sleeping in them anyway.

It’s a good thing he is.

After what feels like minutes, the bells ring.

Daryl sits up with a jerk, jumps off the bed and pauses.

The bells had just rung once.

Friendly returning.

Guests.

Daryl frowns and runs out of his room, crossing the hallway to burst into Maggie’s. She’s already standing near Hershel’s crib, one hand on her son and the other on her gun.

‘Friendly?’ she asks.

‘Apparently.’ The doors to the balcony are open. Before Maggie can protest, Daryl jumps onto the balustrade and then lowers himself, sliding down the column to land in the grass. He runs towards the gates but comes to a skidding stop when he sees who’s entering Hilltop Colony.

It’s Carl.

Seemingly out of breath and without his hat, sunglasses askew on his nose as he stops just inside the colony to catch his breath. Leaning forward, hands on his knees.

There’s panic clawing inside Daryl’s chest, trying to go up his throat with the bile that sours the taste in his mouth. By now, he knows what the beginning of a panic attack feels like and he breathes in through his nose, out through his mouth. There’s no blood on his brother, just dark patches of sweat. He isn’t running towards the house, there’s no immediate danger.

Daryl takes a couple more breaths and then starts running again. ‘Carl!’

Carl’s head whips up and he takes a stumbling step before running to meet his brother half-way. They crash into each other, Daryl’s hand burying itself in the long hair of the other teen, Carl digging his nails into the angel wings.

‘Are you okay?’ Daryl murmurs into Carl’s shoulder.

‘We didn’t do it,’ Carl pants. ‘It wasn’t – we didn’t want to radio – he could be listening.’

‘What? Who’s listening? Is everyone okay?’

‘Yeah,’ Carl pulls back and looks at this brother. His eye is wide, scared. ‘The herd came out of nowhere – some people panicked. Someone was in Negan’s cell when it happened, handing him his food. They – they left the door open. He got out.’

Daryl takes a step back.

‘We searched Alexandria, he isn’t – Dare, please. He isn’t there anymore. We searched everywhere. He went inside one of the houses. Took a radio and knife. He….’ Carl works his jaw. ‘Negan found Lucille and got out.’

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for not yet answering the comments from last chapter. I'm trash. Grateful trash.  
> Thank you so much


	51. Smoke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for missing an update.  
> Grab a snack, it's a long one today.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Daryl looks at his brother. The sweat that’s dripping from the dark hair, stubble patchy as if he’s trying to grow his beard, scars exposed now that he’s not wearing his bandages, sunglasses or the famous sheriff’s hat. He’s still breathing hard but the redness slowly fades from his cheeks and neck. He doesn’t have a backpack. There’s no extra gun clipped to his thigh.

‘Dare…’

‘Maggie’s inside,’ Daryl says. ‘Paul’s probably in his trailer.’

Carl blinks. ‘What? No – didn’t you hear what I just said?’

‘Did. Sounds like something they should know.’ Daryl gathers saliva on his tongue and spits it into the grass beside them. ‘Good seein’ you, brother. Take care.’ He turns around on his heels and heads back towards Barrington House.

Out in the distance, he can see how Merle comes running down the steps with Aaron hot on his heels. The door to Paul’s trailer slams open on his right but the scout stops running as soon as he spots the Grimes teenager standing dumfounded in front of the closing gates.

Carl darts forward and grabs Daryl’s upper arm to stop him. ‘Where are you going?’

‘Going to finally get some fucking sleep,’ Daryl snarls as he rips his arm free. ‘Why? What do you want me to do, huh? Run out there and go lookin’ for your pet criminal like some kind of sniffer dog? Ain’t nobody’s bitch,’ the Dixon says as he gets in his brother’s face, forcing the other a step backwards. ‘If it’d been up to me, we wouldn’t be having this problem right now.’

‘I know that, but we have this problem now, so you should help to so-‘

‘So I should help to do what? Risk me and my brother’s lives climbing some rusty-ass water tower, sending our people out there to rescue all your sorry asses while you hide behind a goddamn wall, huh? I didn’t see any of you here when they came for us first.’

Carl opens and closes his mouth but doesn’t say anything.

‘That’s right,’ Daryl says softly. ‘So run back and tell your daddy to put the leash back onto his dog, or I’ll change my mind, find him and put him down myself.’

‘Dad doesn’t know I left Alexandria.’

‘I’m supposed to be impressed now? Two herds spread all over this place, one maniac with a barbed-wire bat and vengeance on his mind, and you thought it was a good time for a fucking stroll. Let me guess, you thought I’d be so grateful you came to tell me right away, right? Yeah,’ Daryl barks out a sharp laugh, cruel and cutting. ‘Or were you just scared I’d find out somehow and come knocking on those gates, hmm?’ he leans closer. ‘ _Little pig_ ,’ he whispers, ‘ _little pig_. _Let me in_.’

‘Stop it.’

‘Go home, brother,’ Daryl says before turning on his heels and walking away.

‘Dare!’ Carl shouts but then his voice softens. ‘I’m sorry about Khamsin.’

Daryl stops. One hand rubs at his bared chest, scratches at the raised scar there. He looks back. ‘Did ass-kicker see the fireworks?’

‘Yeah, man. She loved it. She saw it from the window in your room.’

Daryl nods and walks back to Barrington House. He passes Maggie, who first looks shocked to see Carl standing there and then confused when her son just walks past, head low, and without his brother. He heads up the grand staircase, down the hallway, he closes the door of his bedroom behind him.

Sunlight illuminates the dust that gently floats through the air. It sways in the breeze coming from the big French doors that have been opened for just a crack so it’s cold in his room at night. He likes the crisp air and wanted to enjoy it before the smothering heat of summer crashes over them in just a couple of weeks.

He sits down on the edge of the bed.

Slowly, he undoes the laces of his boots. It’s a hard task now that his fingers are shaking. Shane taught him knots so they never came undone while he was running, so he wouldn’t trip and fall prey to a walker or enemy. Now, he wishes he’d never learned at all.

It’s even harder to take the boots off.

The socks are thrown onto the pile of laundry near the door. Someone will come to collect it later. Bare feet shift on the rug. Toes scratch at the rough material. He tries to focus on that sensation while he puts the bow down.

It’s hard to part with it.

The gun, too. His fingers linger on the cold metal as he places it on the nightstand. The second knife disappears under his pillow. He pulls the gifted one out of the sheath but he can’t bring himself to put it away.

He wants to put it on the nightstand, right next to his gun.

He wants to take his jeans off and go to bed.

He needs to sleep.

Seconds, minutes, hours – he has no idea how long he sits there, but the knock is just as expected as it is unexpected. He’d thought he’d hear that quick rap of knuckles, the one motion of a half-formed fist running down the wood, already going for the handle – never waiting for his permission because he never minds Maggie coming in. Or that knock that’s too loud, like the person had to force themselves to bring one crooked finger down onto the wood, that they’re hesitating or unsure whether they’d be allowed in at all even though he has never denied Paul entrance.

It’s a knock that sounds dull. A muffled boom of that softness of a fist landing on the hard wood, half-hearted, the force leaving the motion half-way through. Daryl knows it’s because Merle thinks it’s ridiculous that Maggie has made him knock before entering his little brother’s bedroom.

It surprises Daryl that Merle waits for permission. The door stays closed between them as seconds go by, and for maybe the first time – Daryl wishes Merle wouldn’t listen to Maggie. He tries to say something, to invite his brother in, but he can’t get himself to do it.

The knife is still in his hands. He’s still sitting on the edge of the bed. The soles of his feet hurt from rubbing them on the rug for seconds, minutes, hours, God knows how long now. There’s panic growing on the base of his spine, numbing it, causing a coldness to freeze up his muscles as it moves up to his shoulders. He thinks that his brother will leave. Fears that Merle will assume he’s asleep, that he won’t come in and-

The door opens and Merle comes in. The dark dress shirt is hanging open. If it had been any other day, Daryl would have teased him about the graying chest hair until Merle would let his jeans dip dangerously low to show him the trail still led down to brown curls he used to have when he was younger. There’s no playful glint in Merle’s eyes now though. Especially not when the gaze moves from the face down to the knife.

‘Some news, huh?’

Daryl shrugs.

Merle closes the door and sits down next to him.

They’re quiet for a little while.

‘What are you doing, monster?’

‘I wanted to go to bed,’ Daryl says. His thumb rubs over the carved wood of his knife. ‘I’m so tired.’

‘But?’ Merle prompts.

‘Can’t anymore. Can’t put my knife away.’

‘Then sleep with that thing on your hip. You’ve done it plenty of times before.’

Daryl shakes his head. ‘Ain’t right. It was fine ten minutes ago. There’s people wearing people’s faces banging on our doors but I was gonna sleep fine, ‘cause this is my home. I hear that fucking asshole is somewhere out there, and I just can’t close my eyes and do it, man.’ He bites on his lips. ‘He’s in my head already. Five seconds out, and he’s back in my head.’

‘He’s out, but he’s not Negan no more,’ Merle tells him. ‘He’s out there, on his own, with just that stupid bat of his. What’s he going to do? Nothing. Die, probably.’

‘No, he won’t,’ Daryl says. He looks at the knife and tilts it so it catches the morning sun on the blade. Gregory was the kind of leader who would send his own people out to die for him. Negan wasn’t like that. He’d pull someone else in front of him to let them catch a bullet, sure, but he’d stick around for the dirty work. Smashing walker skulls when that herd came too close to the Sanctuary, grinning back at him while pretending to kiss the bloodied bat, coming back from raid with a dark look in his eyes and the request for his gloves to be cleaned. He’d pushed someone’s eyes back into their skull after they’d forced themselves on someone at an outpost.

There are rules.

Negan’s not the kind of person to stumble over a tree trunk and die. Fall through a floor into a dark pit filled with walkers, he won’t be caught by surprise while sleeping in an abandoned house. People like that died early on. He survived. Thrived.

‘I told Carl to run back to Rick. I told him to go home.’

Merle looks at him. ‘We abandoning our blood now? Is that who we are?’

‘No.’

‘No – that’s right. That ain’t us. Ain’t ever going to be us, neither.’

‘You’re one to talk,’ Daryl mutters.

Merle wipes a hand over his weathered face. He looks at his blood. ‘You know what you’re really good at? Throwing things back into people’s faces whenever you feel like it. There ain’t no moving on with you. Shane didn’t teach you about forgive and forget?’

‘Did,’ Daryl snaps defiantly, ‘just about Carl taking the last chocolate bar without sharin’ – could forgive that fine! Never mentioned it again neither.’

‘Real big of you.’

Daryl’s shoulders slump. ‘Sorry,’ he says while his bare foot scrapes over the floor again in punishment. ‘Ain’t even mad about that no more. I was, but I ain’t no more. I didn’t know why I said that.’

‘Because you got your momma’s sweet smile, but your daddy’s tongue. He were always lookin’ to draw blood too.’ Merle knocks their shoulders together. ‘I know shit’s complicated with you ‘nd Rick, but everything that’s going on now? That’s real simple.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah. We’re going to find that son of a bitch and put him back in his little box. He gives us trouble? Hmm, we’ll put him six feet under instead and tell Rick we tried real hard.’

Daryl shoots his brother a small smile. ‘What about the others? Lydia’s group? She said her mom would be coming for her.’

Merle shrugs. ‘She knows she’ll have to knock politely on our door – if she don’t… that’ll be on her daughter.’

‘You’d hurt that girl?’

Merle’s face hardens. ‘To keep you safe? Yeah. Ain’t no doubt about that, little brother.’

Daryl works his jaw. ‘Do you think they’re just moving through the area? If they had a camp anywhere in this area, we’d have known about it. I know every inch between here and Alexandria, Paul or Aaron would have spotted them before – Ezekiel got the Kingdom’s side covered with patrols and Negan wouldn’t have allowed them on his land – where the hell did they come from?’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘If they’re just moving through, we could give them her daughter and maybe-‘

Merle shakes his head. ‘We already lost people to them, monster.’

‘So an eye for an eye, we’re back to all of that?’

‘I don’t know,’ Merle says with a sigh. ‘Rick’s little dingy prison can only hold so many, ya know?’ He knocks their shoulders together. ‘One problem at the time. We’re gonna put that little shit back in its cage, then we’re gonna find out what all that other bullshit is about. People wearing dead people’s faces, man?’ he sucks on his teeth. ‘I thought nothing were gonna beat the dead walking.’

‘I guess it’s kinda clever in a way, but – like, if I had to? I’d do it Michonne’s way.’

Merle frowns. ‘How’s that?’

‘Break their jaw, remove the lower part. It makes them tame when they can’t bite no more. She used to keep two of them on chains so the others wouldn’t notice her.’

‘Holy shit!’

Daryl laughs.

Merle shakes his head. ‘You’ve got a fucked-up family, monster.’ The smile fades. ‘What’re you gonna do about Carl?’

‘I dunno,’ Daryl mutters. ‘I mean – he didn’t _have_ to come all the way out here to tell me to my face, I guess…’ He rubs his bare feet over the rug again. His soles are getting sore.

‘Stop doing that.’ Merle swats at his knees. He gets up. ‘And you best figure it out, because you can’t go ‘round callin’ people brother and then not acting like it. You don’t have to agree with what he’s done, or what’s going on now,’ Merle says when Daryl glares up at him. ‘Kid’s crying his eyes out ‘cause you keep givin’ him the cold shoulder. He ain’t no Dixon. He ain’t used to that kinda treatment.’

Daryl sighs and nods.

‘Break-time’s over,’ Merle says as he grabs his brother’s wrist and yanks him to his feet. With a grunt, he lifts him up, hugging him tightly.

‘Let me go, man!’ Daryl laughs but he still loops his arms around his brother’s shoulders, pulls his legs up so his feet won’t touch the floor. ‘You’re crazy!’

‘Till you break my back, huh?’ Merle laughs. ‘Not long now, with that fat ass of yours.’ He grabs Daryl by his middle and forces him back, throwing him onto the bed. He’s smiling. ‘Get some sleep now, monster. We’ll be downstairs.’

‘Hey,’ Daryl calls out when Merle reaches for the doorknob. ‘Thanks.’

 

 

During the war, they’d had only one long distance radio that Paul had stolen from that savior. Eventually, more had fallen into the hands of Alexandria and the Kingdom, one had been gifted to Oceanside after the final battle. Slowly, the network had grown. Every community now has a special room where soldiers keep track of patrols called in by allies, where coded messages relay information about crumbling roads and fallen trees, about clusters of walkers moving through the lands, and requests for help with scouting.

It’s the backroom in Barrington house. Instead of a single long distance on the middle of the table, there’s now an entire wall that functions as a radio. Various stations connected, private lines and open ones, flashing lights, long distance next to short distance, wave lengths written on the wall with the code names for every community and outpost.

Daryl had tried to help set it up, but even with Emma’s lessons, he hadn’t really understood what he was doing. The dials are foreign to him, he doesn’t understand which button he needs to press even though she’d explained it several times already. He understands the principle of radio waves, knows what they are, but hates the tech.

He’s convinced it hates him, too.

Usually, the only times he’s in this room is when he needs to get a briefing before a scouting mission, or when he needs to collect the letters that contain sensitive information that Maggie doesn’t want to convey over radio waves.

Emma is sitting at the table. One of the long-distance radios has been disassembled, it’s in pieces on the wood in front of her. A tiny screwdriver is clenched between her teeth while she starts to put it back together again. Blonde hair cut short for the summer months and green eyes flicking up when Daryl enters the room.

He knocks on the open door and looks around. There’s nobody else there. ‘Quiet morning?’

‘Busy night,’ Emma says as she puts the screwdriver down. ‘Next shift starts in half an hour, I’ve sent the rest to bed. The coms are quiet now that Rosita isn’t cussing at Carl anymore for running off. I couldn’t understand half of it, but it sounded like she meant business.’

‘She always does.’ He pulls at his fingers and bites on his lower lip.

Emma glances up from her work when he stays quiet. ‘Something I can do for you, little prince?’

‘Yeah – I just… I mean, it’s not important, you’re busy.’

‘Spit it out.’

‘Can you maybe radio Washington? On, like... a private line?’

Emma pushes herself away from the table. She’s sitting on a rolling desk chair and is across the room in the blink of an eye. ‘Sure, no problem. Give me two seconds, or do you want to try and do it yourself?’

‘Don’t want to break it again,’ Daryl smiles as he walks over.

‘I can fix anything that needs power,’ Emma grins back. Her hand flies over the console and then she takes a radio down from the charging station. ‘Little prince for big city, over.’ She passes the radio to him.

‘Thanks.’ Daryl falls into a chair while he waits for an answer. He sits up straight when it’s a familiar voice that answers after a couple of seconds. ‘Amaka! Hey… it’s Dare.’

‘I know your call sign,’ Amaka says and he can hear the smile through the words. ‘Everything okay?’

‘Yeah – yeah… it’s just... I sent a letter before, it was supposed to arrive yesterday but Kal got held up because of last night.’

A crackle when the signal fades and comes back. ‘We saw the fireworks. That was a good idea.’

‘Hmm.’ Daryl glances at Emma, who’s focused on her work. ‘It’s early, but… Is Tai there?’

Amaka sounds sorry. ‘He left for another station last night to warn them about those new people.’

‘Oh. Good! Good, okay – yeah, of course.’ He bites on his lip and then uncurls, planting his boots firmly on the ground. ‘Are you guys okay over there? No trouble or nothing?’

‘No trouble here. We’re expecting Taiwo back a couple hours before dark and everyone knows what to look out for now. We’re good.’

‘Good,’ Daryl echoes. ‘Listen – I got to go, but…’ He glances at Emma again and sits up straighter. ‘Stay out of trouble, okay? All of you, I know that’s real hard for Felix, but he’s gotta try, okay?’

Amaka laughs. ‘I’ll keep an eye on him.’

‘Good. Be careful. And… and tell Taiwo I was thinking about him, okay? That…’ he feels himself blush, scarlet spreading from the tips of his ears down to his cheeks and neck, heating up his chest. ‘Tell him I miss him real bad.’

‘I will, Dare. He’ll be very sorry to hear that he missed your call. Can he try to radio back tonight, when he’s home?’

‘Yeah – of course,’ Daryl says quickly. ‘If I’m not here, someone can take a message and let me know he got back all right, but I’ll try to be here, in the radio center when… yeah. Ok. I mean,’ Daryl laughs at his own eagerness. ‘He can call, it’s whatever.’

Amaka laughs too. ‘It was good to hear your voice again, Daryl. Try to keep out of trouble, too, and take care. Over and out.’

Daryl looks at the radio and rubs his thumb over the plastic. He sits there for a minute before sliding off the chair and walking over to Emma. He puts the radio down next to her. ‘Thanks for helpin’.’

She nods and shoots him a small smile. ‘See you tonight then, little prince.’

He nods and puts a hand on her shoulder. ‘Get some sleep yourself. It’s been a long night.’

 

 

The meeting is held behind closed doors. Maps of the general area are spread out on the table, the corners held down by small rocks. The trade-routes are marked; yellow lines following parts of the interstate, a trail cutting through the forest between the Kingdom and Washington, and long backroads that wind through the country side, snaking from community to community. The red lines are the borders. The Kingdom has the largest realm, though Washington’s stretches out far beyond the city to the other side.

Daryl hadn’t really understood why the borders had been so important to Rick, Maggie and Ezekiel, but he’d helped settle the heated debates anyway. Trading away rivers and bridges, gaining woodland and small towns. Cyndie’s land is clearly marked by water; the ocean on one side and the river on the other. Nobody crosses either of them without her approval.

Ezekiel’s land expanded, the border moving closer to the Sanctuary now that Negan’s claim is gone. A small town, the forest, he owns most of the farms on that side of the world.

Alexandria had clashed with Hilltop most. Rick laying claim to the river while it had been mostly Maggie’s forces that had built the mill there, neither of them wanting to give up their new energy source. Daryl isn’t really sure who won in the end, but he doubts that the deal that Merle had made would ever negatively impact Hilltop.

A decision has already been made.

Daryl knows it by the way Maggie is standing by the window, eyes hard and jaw clenched, her arms folded in front of her chest. The dark hair frames her pale face, drawn after the long days. She’s wearing her riding gear for when she’ll train the young horses later, eyes on the paddock.

Carl is sitting at the table. Shoulders curled in to make himself appear to be smaller, the fingers of one hand scratching at the wood, while the other hand is buried in the mop of dark hair. He looks up when the door opens, his one good eye now red and quickly averted when he sees that it’s his brother.

Merle is pacing back and forth with a nasty scowl on his face. The movements remind Daryl of Shiva, in her cage. Tail lashing angrily at anyone who’d approach, even it was the king himself.

Paul is sitting at the table as well. Shoulders down, hair spilling over them, gaze steady as he meets the youngest Dixon’s eye for just a moment. Hands folded in front of them, completely at ease to any stranger who’d walk in, but not to his own family. They’ve seen him relaxed; slumped in his chair while sharing a drink with Merle, laughing at something Enid said, legs falling open and one hand in the pocket of his jeans.

Daryl wonders faintly whether he learned to fake the posture, just like he had to do when people from child services came snooping. He closes the door and turns to Maggie.

Maggie turns around and looks at Merle.

‘Oh no,’ the older Dixon grouses. ‘No, this is all you, missy. I told him what I thought the plan was; put that son of a bitch where he belongs! Six feet under if we get lucky, back in his cage if we don’t. Oh no - no – no, don’t you put this on old Merle now. _You_ tell him!’

Maggie takes a deep breath. She pushes a strand of dark hair behind her ear. ‘Fine,’ she looks at Daryl. ‘We won’t go after Negan.’

Daryl takes out a chair and sits down. He folds his arms in front of his chest. ‘That right, huh?’

‘It’s too dangerous. He left Alexandria hours ago – half a day! We don’t know where he’ll turn up, or even if he will. He doesn’t have anywhere to go. The Sanctuary is run by Beth and Dwight – he shows his face there, they’ll get him. We can go comb through the woods right now to try to find him, but if we do that – we’ll be exposing ourselves to other threats. This new group, we don’t know anything about them. It could be ten people, twenty, it could be a whole army. It’s too dangerous.’ Maggie takes a step closer. ‘I know how important this is for you, but I won’t risk your life or anyone else’s for him. We’ve lost too much because of him already.’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl mutters as he scuffs his boot on the floor. ‘I think you’re right.’

Maggie shoots Merle a look before turning back to Daryl. ‘You do?’

‘Tracks will have been erased by those herds anyway. If he’s smart, he left the country by now. And he’s plenty smart. He’s not hanging ‘round.’ Daryl glances at Paul, ‘you should go talk to Lydia some more, see what she says.’

‘She seemed to respond better to you,’ Paul objects. ‘She opened up more when-‘

‘Yeah, I ain’t lying to her again. She’s locked in a fucking cell, ‘course she’ll latch on to anyone who has something nice to say. Was fucked up what I did. I just knew that it’d work, because – hey! Worked on me, right?’

Paul looks away.

‘It’s not the same,’ Maggie says softly.

‘Still feels wrong,’ Daryl answers. ‘So what do you want me to do today? Help with the horses or cover a shift for somewhere else? You need people out on patrol, Merle?’

‘He doesn’t,’ Maggie cuts in before Merle can answer. ‘Try to get some sleep and maybe you can look after Hershel this afternoon while I help in the gardens.’

‘Sleep and babysit,’ Daryl grins, ‘okay. You got it. I’ll be in my room, finishing that drawing of Nabila for Jerry, so you can drop Kiss off any time you need to.’ He stands up and then hesitates. ‘Hey, nerd.’

Carl looks up.

‘Sorry.’

‘Yeah. Me too.’

Daryl nods. ‘Get back safely, okay? Tell kicker I said hi. Enid, too. Rosita. All of ‘em, right?’

‘I will.’

Daryl shoots him a last small smile before disappearing upstairs.

 

 

The woods welcome him home with a smothering embrace. The air is heavy and thick. The sun is climbing higher and higher but the whole world is made of shadows under the roof of leaves. All kinds of green and brown with the occasional speck of industry. A rusted-out car that still bears signs that it used to be fire-engine red. An empty plastic bottle with a faded label. A piece of clothing hanging from a branch, smeared with blood and one arm still in the sleeve. Buzzing with flies now.

There’s sweat dripping down the side of Daryl’s face. Well-worn boots quickly make their way over the uneven forest floor as the teenager darts from tree to tree. His breathing is loud even to his own ears but the woods are quiet.

Not quiet enough.

Footsteps. Fast, someone running on the tips of their toes, slipping over wet leaves and tripping over branches but catching themselves. Used and not used to the forest, foreign but familiar at the same time. A strange rhythm to their pace, fast but hesitant.

They’re following him.

Daryl turns left and starts to run. He makes more noise now, dashing through bushes and jumping over a fallen tree. It creaks under his sudden weight and the sound causes birds to fly away, screaming.

That’s the sound he needed. He jumps up, grabs a low-hanging branch and starts to climb.

When the birds are gone, he is silent.

Running footsteps approach. The rustling of leaves, someone trying to actually jump over the bushes but landing half in them instead. A muttered curse that has Daryl biting the inside of his mouth, hard.

When the person passes under him, he rolls his eyes. He lets himself slide off the branch and lands on the forest floor with a heavy thud.

Carl stumbles and whirls around, his silenced gun raised until he spots his brother. He’s panting. Sweat has stained his undershirt.

‘What’re you following me for?’ Daryl snarls. ‘I told you to go home!’

‘I’m not going to let you do this.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Daryl holds up his hands and walks backwards, away from his brother. ‘I’m just takin’ a stroll. It’s a beautiful day.’

‘Don’t act like I’m an idiot.’

‘Hell, you let a mass murderer walk outta your front gates. Nobody is acting!’

‘Yeah?’ Carl challenges, ‘and you’re going to make it all better, right? Because you know everything.’

‘What I know is what we agreed on,’ Daryl snarls back. ‘He belongs in jail. Every second he’s out here, feeling that sunshine on his skin? Nah. He don’t deserve none of that, and I don’t care that there’s a bunch of psychopaths lumbering about, or that he has a goddamn baseball bat. He’s in jail or he’s in the ground, that was the deal!’

‘So you’re willing to lie to Maggie, Merle and Paul to get your way? They trust you and you tricked them!’

‘This ain’t about me getting my way! This is about sticking to _your_ goddamn rules! What do you want me to say, Carl? You were right!’ Daryl says. ‘You were right; it was enough to lock him up, never see him again, but he’s out now and you expect me to sleep easy? To be like; oh yeah, it’s too dangerous to find him now, let’s just leave him out here. Every second he’s free? He’s getting stronger. He’s going to find new gear, a new place and _he’s going to get it all back_.’

‘No, he _won’t_.’

Daryl narrows his eyes. ‘How can you be so sure?’

Carl bites the inside of his mouth and then looks away. With a sigh, he puts his gun away. ‘Fine. We’ll find him and bring him back. _Alive_.’

Daryl sucks on his teeth.

‘Dare…’

‘Fine! Alive. But if he swings for your head, don’t cry about how I promised to keep him alive, okay? He tries something, he’s dead.’

‘Ahw,’ Carl puts his hand over his heart and lets his shoulders slump. ‘I didn’t know you felt that way about me.’

‘Your dad’s a crazy rogue cop who bit a guy to death and your mom’s Michonne. I ain’t looking for no trouble. Can you imagine what they’d do to my sorry ass if I brought back your fucking corpse? Besides,’ he shoots his brother a small smile, ‘I promised Shane I’d look after your pathetic ass.’

Carl grins but the smile fades quickly. ‘You know I’d do the same for you, right?’

‘You snuck into the Sanctuary and gunned down his men – yeah, I know you would,’ Daryl grins back. ‘Gotta yank your head out of the clouds sometimes, is all. This is the real world, not your fantasy new one.’

‘The new world is the real one.’

‘I’m done talking about that. We doing this or nah?’

Carl nods. ‘We’re doing this. _My way_.’

Daryl narrows his eyes and spits onto the ground, but he nods.

 

 

In the end, there are too many places that could have provided Negan shelter during the night to check them all. The most likely ones between Alexandria and the Sanctuary are untouched. Safehouses are still locked, the cluster of houses next to the highway is abandoned and there are no signs of the man anywhere.

One of the farms has a wild garden now. Daryl likes to stop there to check whether any of the fruits and vegetables have started to come in at all. The tomatoes are red and ripe. Without a second of hesitation he bites one in half and gives one part to Carl.

‘What happens if we don’t find him?’ Carl asks at last while they’re sitting under a big tree to escape the sunshine for a moment.

‘I don’t know,’ Daryl mutters before licking the juice off his wrist. He’s been thinking about that question for the past hour. There are no tracks he can follow, there’s no way of knowing where Negan has gone at all. He could have tucked tail after all. He could have slipped into the city, even. Mason’s guards patrol the border but one guy sneaking in is easy to miss.

‘You should have brought your radio.’

‘It’s in my backpack,’ Daryl says. ‘Emergencies only.’ He shrugs when Carl looks surprised. ‘Knife, bow, holler, right? Just ‘cause he’s gone, don’t mean his rules don’t apply no more.’

‘Right. You should let Maggie know you’re all right. She’ll be worried about you. It’ll get dark soon.’

‘You’re just scared she’s gonna rip you a new one just like Rosita did.’

Carl laughs and winces at the same time. ‘Yeah.’

Daryl knocks their shoulders together and laughs, too. ‘Pussy.’ Their boots knock together while they watch how the sun starts to set. At one point, Carl gets up to deal with a stray walker but he sits back down when it’s over.

‘You know what’s kinda ironic?’

‘Hmm?’

‘You got all mad at me for leaving Alexandria while he’s out here, and that new group is everywhere.’

Daryl frowns. ‘So? Want me to say I’m sorry for hurting your feelings? Bite me.’

‘I just want you to know that you’re a stupid asshole who should leave the thinking to me.’

‘Maybe,’ Daryl allows. ‘I mean, you were doing your homework weeks after the apocalypse happened, so you must be the one with the big brains. That’s right. I forgot about that, you loser. Speaking about dumb shit people do,’ Daryl says slowly. ‘What’s the first thing Shane taught you when it comes to starting fires?’

‘Which kind of wood to use.’

‘Yeah, why’s that?’

Carl frowns. ‘Because you almost murdered me for trying to do it with wood that’s bad.’

The corner of Daryl’s mouth shoots upwards. ‘Yeah. Exactly. If you use a fire starter that’s no good, what do you get?’ He slowly gets up and takes his bow in his hands.

Carl looks up. His eyes widen. ‘Smoke.’

‘Hmm-hmm.’ Daryl cocks his head to the side and watches how the trail of dark smoke billows up, stark against the blue sky.

‘That’s coming from the collapsed bridge. That roads leads to the Sanc-‘

‘Negan ain’t no fool,’ Daryl says with a shake of his head. ‘Someone is baiting us, or someone’s real desperate.’

‘For fire?’ Carl asks while he scrunches up his nose. ‘Why?’

‘Let’s go see.’

 

 

There’s smoke, and fire and walkers stumbling down the dusty road towards it all. Five people are huddled together next to their make-shift campfire. One of them is on the ground; a woman with black hair. She’s trashing about, writhing in pain while her hands try to go to her side, feet kicking up dust. Noises of pain escape through her clenched teeth.

A man is standing over her. Face deadly pale and eyes frightened as he holds a red-hot knife that’s obviously just been drawn out of the fire. ‘We have to do it now!’

‘There’s no time,’ another woman snarls. Long hair obscuring most of her face. She’s holding her friend down by the shoulders but her eyes are on the group of walkers that’s coming towards them. ‘Can you hold them off?’

The two other women are standing guard in front of their little group. One of them looks back and shakes her head. ‘There’s too many, we need to go.’

‘She’ll bleed out!’ the man objects.

Daryl watches them through the scope of his crossbow. They have weapons. A machete, he can see a bow in the tall grass next to the fire, the woman still looking forward has her knife drawn. It doesn’t really matter though, he thinks while shifting his gaze to the stumbling herd.

There are too many.

‘She’s hurt,’ Carl says softly while looking at the woman on the ground. ‘We should help.’

‘Who knows who they are – maybe they’re part of Lydia’s group!’

‘Look at them, Dare! They’re not!’

‘They got weapons, they can save themselves!’

‘ _Dare_!’

Daryl grits his teeth. ‘Fine! Good lord, your bleedin’ heart is going to get us all killed, you know that right?’ He takes aim and lets his first bolt fly. ‘You get to her, I got your back.’

The woman at the front frowns and looks his way when a walker goes down because of the foreign bolt. Her eyes widen when she sees the two teenagers come running out of the forest. Her hand goes to her friend, pushing her to face them.

‘Friendly, friendly, friendly!’ Carl says as he holds his hands up, though the silenced gun and drawn knife don’t install a lot of confidence in his words. The woman previously kneeling next to her friend jumps up to draw her machete but she hesitates when she sees how Daryl side-steps to face the herd.

He takes out another walker before taking his backpack off and throwing it down at Carl’s feet. ‘Radio! Radio!’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Carl grabs the backpack and slides down to sit on his knees next to the injured woman. ‘What’s wrong with her?’

‘Who are you?’ the woman has her machete drawn now but Carl doesn’t pay any attention to it. He rummages around in Daryl’s pack, pulling out the radio and the first aid kit.

Carl looks around, ‘Dare?’

‘Route 23, south side,’ Daryl shouts back as he draws his two knives and takes his fighting stance. ‘Get ready,’ he tells the women next to him, ‘we just gotta hold them off a little while.’ One of them nods but the other just looks at him and then at her friend. ‘Get ready!’ Daryl snarls as he bats at her hand with the knife to bring it up.

She takes a surprised and frightened step back.

‘She’s deaf,’ her friend says while signing to her. ‘Watch out!’

Daryl ends the walker lunging for him. ‘I got it. Eyes front now.’

‘Little Prince and Junior for all communities,’ Carl says while holding the radio up. ‘Route 23, south side, we need help. Medium sized herd, one person severely injured. We need immediate medical assistance. Come in.’

Daryl would have laughed at their call names if he hadn’t been busy fighting off the first wave of walkers. Tara likes to change them up, though his has stuck despite him wanting to change it into something cooler than little prince.

Carl’s changes every week and Merle had almost died laughing when he found out who ‘duckling’ belonged to about a month ago.

‘En route. Four minutes.’

‘Copy,’ Carl throws the radio aside. ‘Dad’s coming, Dare! Keep them off of us!’

‘Fucking trying!’

Carl grabs the bandages and pushes them into the woman’s hands. ‘Keep pressure on the wound – help’s on the way.’

‘We should cauterize the wound,’ the man says but his knife is now cold.

‘You should help us stay alive so she can get some stitches,’ Carl snarls before running off to join his brother. He empties his magazine to give Daryl a short break to catch his breath. ‘Right beside you, brother.’

It makes Daryl feel better than having the strangers beside him, though they seem to be holding their own. Carl knows when to duck or swoop down to end a walker after Daryl sends them flying into the dust with a round-house kick. He has the height now, and the strength thanks to Rosita, Merle and Paul.

The four minutes seem like an eternity though.

‘Dare, on our-‘

The gunshot coming from a Colt Python is so familiar that it makes Daryl grin. He glances over his shoulder to watch how a group from Alexandria comes galloping over. Rick on his brown horse, Michonne right beside him with her katana drawn. One of Merle’s friends and a soldier from the Kingdom. An engine roars; Rosita comes tearing down a dusty trail on the quad, with Tara holding onto her waist.

They stop next to the small group while Rick leads the horses to the walkers. Some get trampled. Most get shot or cut down. When Daryl ends the last walker, he looks back. Rosita is tending to the woman, binding the wound and then ordering the man and woman to help her get her on the quad so they can get back to Alexandria as soon as possible.

Carl pants but staggers over to where Rick is dismounting. The father and son embrace tightly, Rick’s grip on his son almost desperate. ‘We thought one of you…’

‘Sorry, sorry – we’re fine. We’re okay.’

Daryl puts his knife away and collects his bolts, yanking them out of corpses and stowing them in his quiver. A horse circles around him. ‘What?’ he asks Michonne, who looks angry.

‘You had a radio,’ she says through her teeth, ‘and you didn’t let Maggie know where you were. _All day_.’

‘Don’t need the lecture.’

‘I think you do,’ Michonne tells him.

‘Thank you,’ the man says when his friend is on the quad behind Rosita. ’You boys – thank you so much – we-‘

‘Who are you,’ Rick demands with a steel voice as he pushes Carl behind him.

‘She needs a doctor, Rick,’ Rosita says. ‘Sanctuary or Hilltop?’

‘Hilltop,’ Michonne answers as she glares at Daryl.

Rosita opens the gas and disappears into a cloud of dust.

‘Where’s she taking her?’ her friend asks.

‘All of you deaf?’ Daryl scoffs. ‘ _Hilltop_!’

‘I asked you who you were,’ Rick says as he walks over to the man with his Colt pointed at his head.

‘I’m – I’m Luke -that’s Magna, what are y-’

Rick presses the barrel against his forehead. ‘How many walkers have you killed, Luke?’

 

 

 


End file.
